


Escape

by maywemeetagain100



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clexa, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 30,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6684502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maywemeetagain100/pseuds/maywemeetagain100
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke has just defeated the mountain and realisation hits her. She is engaged, but has kissed another. Clarke struggles with an abusive relationship and convinces herself that she is in love. She needs to be saved, and Lexa may just be the only one who can save her, but can Clarke ever forgive her for what she has done? For betraying her? Will Clarke allow herself to be saved? Especially by someone who has hurt her so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Clarke takes a deep breath, drawing the oxygen into her lungs before shakily pouring it back out. She can feel an unfamiliar presence beneath her fingers. Looking down to see what the foreign object could be, she realises that she is unable to see. She is blind as images from recent months wash over her. Her knees become weak, her eyes flicker as her brain pounds against her skull, trying to break free from the visions she knows are soon to come. She shakes her head frantically, trying to focus on the mission at hand. Static seeps into her ears, preparing for the sound of various voices to invade her ear cavities. Her vision is engulfed by images of black war paint, braided, brown hair, beautiful pink lips and gorgeous green eyes that soften just for Clarke. 

The world around her slips away completely and she is standing in front of the woman she fell for, the woman who betrayed her. Clarke observes the throne she sits in, the bed she sleeps in and finally; her. She is wearing her war paint, her thick, brown locks tied back into braids, sitting proudly atop her head. Her armour too big for her, weighs heavily on her shoulders, but she shows no signs of pain, of pressure, of weakness. Piercing green eyes could intimidate the largest of warriors, but not Clarke. Clarke finds beauty in pain, fear in bravery, and strength in weakness. She feels safe when she looks into those eyes, the eyes that have captivated her from the moment she entered that tent. She is pulled from her trance by a voice, a voice so soft and warm, she feels she could wrap it around her and be protected from the harsh, winter storms.

“You think our ways are harsh, but it is how we survive.”

Clarke doesn’t know why she’s speaking, what she’s saying, but she says it anyway, as if some invisible force is drawing her in closer towards The Commander.  
“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving.” She should have stopped there.

But she didn’t. “Don’t we deserve better than that?”

“Maybe we do.”

Clarke looks toward the woman as she speaks, not expecting what was to come. As her eyes meet The Commander’s, a hand gently collides with the side of her face, pulling her in closer to the woman before her. Clarke almost melts at the touch, but she doesn’t have time. Soft lips are placed against her own, eager but gentle, saying so many words. The Commander has been waiting so long for this moment, yet she cares too much for Clarke to rush the kiss the two women are sharing. This moment would be sacred to them for the rest of their lives. Clarke is the first to pull away.

“I’m sorry. I’m, I’m not ready, to be with anyone, not yet.”

The Commander nods and Clarke can see the pain in her eyes. This was about more than The Commander just wanting to kiss her, this went deeper. Clarke could see that and she feels bad for lying, she has to leave. She excuses herself from The Commander’s tent, stumbling outside, only to fall to the ground in a heap. How could she have done this? Before she can crumble into the dirt, becoming one with the earth, she catches a glimpse of a familiar face. Shit. She quickly gathers herself, pushing up off of the ground and walking towards the slicked back hair and broad shoulders she had learned to love. They meet half way through the gathered tents and bustling crowds.

“Can we get out of here?” A devilish grin spreads wide across his face and Clarke feels uneasy.

“Finn, we’re in the middle of a war, can it not wait?”

His grin falls from his face as he places his hand, a little too roughly, around her arm. “This will just take a second.” The grin is back.  
Clarke nods reluctantly, ignoring the searing pain pulsing through every nerve in her arm. She lets him drag her through the crowds and into the canopy of trees. He walks so fast and Clarke struggles to keep up, tripping over tree roots and falling into dips in the ground. Her knees buckle and the earth slips from beneath her feet as she hits the dirt beneath her, head first. A hiss escapes from between her lips as she feels a tug on her upper arm, lifting her up from the ground. It takes a couple of seconds for her feet to hit the dirt again and she realises that Finn had been dangling her in the air like a rag doll. Another sharp tug on her upper arm encourages her to move and she is sure that her shoulder has been dislocated. 

Another yard or so and they come to a stop. Clarke looks around, seeing nothing but trees, until Finn lifts a tree branch, exposing a towering mountain. She forces a smile to spread across her face as Finn once again, tugs at her upper arm, this time, pulling her towards the ground. She winces in pain, focusing too heavily on the feeling, unable to comprehend what Finn was planning paces beside her. She can’t see him positioning himself, on one knee. 

“Clarke, will you marry me?”

That’s it? No apology, no speech. What a coward. She has already decided. She does not want to marry this man, she should say no. She will say no!

“Yes.”

He lifts her into the air, squeezing her rib cage until it cracks beneath her skin. She cannot breathe, she cannot think as the world slowly begins to slip from her senses. A weight is lifted from her chest, accompanied by the sound of flesh colliding with bone. She hears a female voice calling out to her but it is too late, she has lost consciousness.

“Clarke!”

“Clarke!”

She is beginning to wake up, the voice is no longer female.

“Clarke!”

She is back at the mountain, her hand on the lever.

“Clarke, we need to do this.” 

This voice is not the voice she heard at the mountains with Finn. This voice is deeper, male. This voice belongs to Bellamy Blake. She shakes her head, removing the last images of the mountains, Finn and The Commander from her mind. She looks down at her hand, seeing the silver engagement ring on her fourth finger and suddenly wondering where the ring had come from. Had Finn stolen it? Was it his Mother’s? His Grandmother’s? She looked to her left, seeing the dark brown, almost black, curls that had provided comfort from the day she landed on Earth. She nods at the man and in unison, they pull their hands backwards, taking the lever with them. They had irradiated level five, together. They had rescued their people, together. They had killed every last one of the mountain men, together. 

Clarke watches as Octavia and Finn begin to free their people from the leather cuffs they were bound by. Blood covers the floor, the walls and her people. She cannot stand to watch any longer. With their mission complete, and a heaviness in their hearts, Clarke and Bellamy leave the control room, wanting to see the true extent of the destruction they had caused. They received no less as they entered the dining room. The carpet could not be seen beneath the mountain of bodies, some propped up in chairs, expecting dinner. What they received instead was suffocation, searing pain throughout their bodies as the life was sucked from their lungs. Monty had been trailing behind the two, as Clarke stumbles upon a weeping Jasper. He holds Mia’s body close to his chest, his voice barely a whisper.

“What did you do?” 

Clarke’s voice breaks, “We had no choice.”

“I was gonna kill Cage, if you’d have just given me one more minute, it would have been over.”

Bellamy sees how upset Clarke is by Jasper’s words and steps in, his words drowning in sympathy.

“Jasper, they never would have stopped.”

The three of them turn on their heels, leaving Jasper to mourn for however long he needs, as they gather their people and start the mile long journey back to their home. Clarke watches her people pour through the gate, her mother on a make-do stretcher, following Cage’s search for bone marrow. Lincoln and Octavia walk through the gates, hand-in-hand, they feel sorrow for the lives lost but pride for the lives they saved. Jasper drags his feet across the dirt and over the threshold, into the camp. Raven in Wick’s arms, after being injured by the bomb, she hands Jasper’s goggles back to him as he thanks her. Finn must have slipped past in the crowd. Monty is the last one to enter the camp, after hugging Clarke, leaving Clarke and Bellamy outside the gates.

Bellamy is the first to speak. “I think we deserve a drink.”

“Have one for me.”

“We can get through this.” His voice is almost desperate.

“I’m not going in.”

“Okay, if you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you.” Now he is desperate, “You’re forgiven.”

He pauses, “Please, come inside.”

“Take care of them for me.”

“Clarke-,”

She cuts him off. “Seeing their faces every day, is just gonna remind me of what I did to get them here.”

“What we did! You don’t have to do this alone.”

“I bear it, so they don’t have to.”

“Where you gonna go?” He questions, sadness dripping from his words.

“I don’t know.”

She’s honest as she gently kisses him on the cheek and pulls him in for a hug. Without pulling away she whispers, “May we meet again,” her voice cracking. She leaves him there, barely hearing him repeat her own words to her. Today, she starts again.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke braces herself, her knife raised above her head as the giant panther strikes. Her eyes are closed tightly, her eyelids glued together in fear. She doesn’t know if she will live or die and in this moment, she doesn’t think she cares. She hears a whimper and slowly opens one of her eyes to see the lifeless body of the panther hovering over her. As if on cue, the panther crumbles into a heap, falling on Clarke’s frail body. She growls, pushing the lifeless creature off of her. Her breathing is heavy as she takes a moment to collect herself. She has no feeling in her hands, her feet or her heart. She feels nothing as she forces the blade into the stomach of her latest kill. She feels nothing as she slits the panther’s stomach, releasing guts and organs onto the ground beneath her. She feels nothing as she begins to skin the animal, preparing its meat for her first meal in days.

Finishing off her preparation, she clears the leaves away from the dirt, throwing heaps of sticks and twigs into the now empty space. She throws some dry grass on top before beginning to rub two sticks together. The friction causes blisters to form on her thumbs but she does not stop, she cannot stop. Her thumbs begin to bleed, just as smoke begins to appear where the friction is taking place. She laughs to herself and it sounds almost evil as the wood begins to spark. She lowers it to the dry grass until a spark lands on the grass, creating a small flame. She adds dry leaves and wood to the pile and fans it, creating larger flames before standing logs around it, to stop it from spreading too much. A sinister grin crawls across her face as she snatches a slab of meat from the ground beside her. She throws it onto the fire as she sits back to stare into the flames.

Her back against the trunk of a dying tree, her hands involuntary come up to cup her face. She rubs her eyes, hoping to rid herself of the tears that form there slowly. The lump in her throat causes her to let out a loud yelp. She quickly covers her mouth, realising that her hunt for food and eagerness to cook it and fill her stomach has left her out in the open. With no protection. She begins to feel the emotions that seemed to be non-existent just moments ago. She feels sorrow for the life that she has taken. She wonders if the panther had a family. She wonders if their family will now go unfed, because Clarke needed to feed, she still does. Pushing the thoughts of the hungry kittens from her mind, Clarke drags herself to her feet, stumbling over to her make-shift fire.

She pulls the meat from the fire, tearing into it with her teeth. She lets out a hum of pleasure as the meat crawls over her tongue. She takes pleasure in clamping her teeth down on the panther with every slow grind of her teeth. The juices seep onto her tongue, making her tremble. She swallows, ready to take another bite. It doesn’t take Clarke long to fill her quickly shrinking stomach. As the last chunk of fresh meat slithers down her throat, she hears something. Rustle, rustle, snap! Clarke jumps to attention, ripping her knife from the dirt beneath her. She holds the silver before her, in a fighting stance. Her legs are spread shoulder width apart and she is crouched slightly. She takes slow, cautious steps towards the source of the noise. She hears nothing as her feet guide her towards a clear lake.  
Her stealth is not lost as she creeps towards the water, suddenly noticing how dry her throat is. She hasn’t forgotten about the noise and she won’t. She just needs a drink. She glares down into the water, so clear, she would be able to see schools of fish, swimming in the bottom of the lake, if it wasn’t for her own reflection, blocking her view. She sighs, lowering her only weapon to her side. Shame seeps into her body and takes hold of every bone, every organ. 

What she sees, it’s not Clarke. This is not who she is. Her hair is stained red, from the many hunted animals she had killed. It is matted, from sleeping in the dirt for so long. She didn’t know how long, she had lost track of time out here, in the woods. Her face, smeared with dirt, harboured many cuts and bruises, but this is not new to Clarke. She begins to think, why her? Why had she been the one that Finn had fallen in love with? Why had she been the one chosen to lead the people of the Ark? Why had she been the one to pull that stupid lever? Why had she been the one to fall in love with The Commander? Her sky blue eyes begin to water and she wants to leave, but not before she drinks. She leans in close to the water’s edge, lowering filthy hands into the clean water below. The water turns brown from the filth covering her hands, but she brings it up to her lips anyway, gulping the water until she loses breath. She stands, confusion swallowing her as the sounds of the forest slip away. Silence. She turns, to face the barrel of a gun.

“Don’t move.”

“Bellamy?” Clarke squints her eyes, protecting them from the blinding light of the sun. She takes a step towards him.

“I said don’t move!” He yelps, his hands trembling around the gun. “Get her.”

Clarke is stunned as two young men grab either of her arms, pulling her towards the man with the gun. She begins to struggle, but is stopped when the butt of the gun collides with the joints of her knee. She falls to the floor momentarily before being dragged to her blistered feet by the two men either side of her. She looks to them, confusion lacing her features. Bellamy? He was kind of an arsehole when they landed in the dropship, but he is okay now, he looks out for Clarke. He may have just lost himself again but the two boys, they had always been so sweet. Why would they do this to her? She notices that Bellamy is several paces ahead and opens her mouth to speak.

“Monty, Jasper, what’s going on?”

Monty shakes his head sadly, “Chancellor Finn requested we come find you and bring you home.”

“Chancellor Finn?” How could this happen? Clarke is devastated. She thought it was bad before…

“A lot has changed since you left us, Clarke.” It is Bellamy’s turn to speak now, and Clarke doesn’t appreciate the direct dig towards her. “Finn has been appointed Chancellor.”

“I get that.” Clarke responds, with a roll of her eyes, “But how?”

“Everyone believes that he destroyed the mountain,” Jasper scoffs, “And those who don’t, were bullied into voting for the douche.”

“Why does everyone think that?” Clarke questions, her blood running cold.

“That’s what he’s telling everyone. With you gone, there’s no one to question him. It’s mine and Monty’s word against his and you know how much your mum and Kane adore him.” Bellamy turns his nose up as he speaks. “They think he’s so perfect.”

Clarke gulps, tears slipping down her cheeks at the realisation of what this means for her. Finn has no evidence but neither do they, it was impossible for their people to see Clarke and Bellamy from the control room. He will punish her for leaving and she hates Bellamy for listening to him. She hates Bellamy for not sticking up for her, for himself. She hates Bellamy, but she should hate Finn. Bellamy has never hurt her, in anyway, yet she hates him because she can’t hate Finn. Clarke drags her feet through the dirt in the woods, the boys no longer holding onto her so tightly. She sees Bellamy’s jaw clench and guesses that he must be thinking.

“What are you thinking about?” Clarke asks, unable to contain her curiosity.

“Nothing.” His voice is so icy, so cold that Clarke decides not to press any further.

What Clarke doesn’t know, is Bellamy is thinking of her. He’s worried what will happen to Clarke when she returns. He wonders how Clarke will react when she finds out what Finn has been doing while she’s been gone. He worries for Clarke’s physical and mental wellbeing. He hates himself just as much as Clarke hates him. He didn’t want to come and find Clarke, he’d rather be at home with Octavia. It’s not that he doesn’t care about Clarke, it’s the exact opposite, she needs space and as long as she’s away from Finn, she’s safe. Pulling himself from his thoughts, he speaks.

“It’s getting dark, we should rest.”

No one says anything as the boys begin to set up their tents and Bellamy does the same. He fumbles with the fabric, frustration evident in his expression. He cannot fix this thing. Clarke chuckles quietly to herself, walking over to Bellamy and silently extending her hand. Bellamy looks up at her, exhaling, as he hands over the tent. With one sharp flick of her wrists, the tent is up. She sends a smug smile hurling towards Bellamy as he huffs and begins securing it to the ground. Clarke takes it upon herself to pull two sleeping bags from Bellamy’s bag, launching one at the man’s head. He chuckles, pulling the fabric from his face and Clarke allows herself a small smile. He gestures towards the tent, mockingly taking a bow. 

“After you, Sky Princess.”

Clarke smacks him round the back of the head before clambering into the open tent, Bellamy not far behind her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any spare clothes, I didn’t realise you’d be this dirty,” he chuckles.

The two lay side-by-side as Clarke flicks him in the ear. “Why did you come for me?”

“Clarke-,”

“I don’t want to fight, Bell. I just want to know why you didn’t stand your ground.”

Bellamy is ready for a fight, he doesn’t want to talk to Clarke about this. Then he looks at her, and sees the pain in her eyes. She doesn’t want to know, she needs too.

“Ever since you left,” he sighs, “Finn thinks he can do what he wants, have anything he wants. He’s relentless Clarke. He’s Chancellor and anyone who disobeys his orders…”

“What?” Clarke is wide-eyed and afraid.

“Is dead.”

Clarke doesn’t know why, but she rests her head on his shoulder. She has always felt comfortable with Bellamy. There are no feelings there, her heart belongs to someone else, and she feels that it always has, but Bellamy is like a brother to her. She hopes he feels the same. He doesn’t move and Clarke slowly drifts into the most comfortable, yet worst sleep she has ever experienced on the ground. She dreams of Finn proposing, something that should be wonderful, but is terrifying. She dreams of The Commander leaving her alone, in the middle of a battlefield, when she needs her the most. She dreams of pulling the lever with Bellamy. She dreams of orphaned kittens and she dreams of Camp Jaha, under Finn’s control, shrouded by destruction.

“Clarke, wake up,” she feels someone shaking her.

“C’mon, we gotta go.” Bellamy whispers as he pulls her to her feet.

“What’s happening?” She croaks, her voice dripping with sleep.

“Just, grab your sleeping bag and meet me outside.”

Clarke quickly gathers what little equipment she has, throwing it outside of the tent, for Bellamy to pack. She scrambles out of the tent, collapsing it quickly and helping Bellamy shove it messily into his rucksack. They begin walking, Jasper and Monty only paces behind them. They don’t need to hold onto Clarke anymore, they trust that she will not run from them, for their own safety.

“Bell, what’s going on?” Clarke’s voice is thick with concern.

“We have to be back in two hours.”

“But the Ark is a three hour walk from here.” She reminds him.

“I know a shortcut.”

The rest of the walk to Camp Jaha is spent in silence, all four of the travellers too scared to speak in case it would slow them down. The Ark is in sight and they want to run, the three boys toward The Ark and Clarke, away from it. Clarke finds herself wondering what would happen to them if they were late. She looks down at the watch her father had given her. They have fifteen minutes. All four begin to pick up their pace until they are standing outside the gates. The gates creak open, painfully slowly, to reveal an all too familiar face.

“Hello, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you like Finn, I don't think this is the story for you. Other than that, what do you think? Should I continue? Are the chapters too long? Too short? Just right? Am I drifting too far from the personalities of the original characters? I would appreciate any type of feedback. Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Mentions of Rape and Abuse.

Clarke’s heart sinks into her stomach as her brain begins to process the words, the voice. Finn. No, how could she end up here? Less than 24 hours ago, she was free. It may not have been the best circumstances but at least she was away from him. The strange thing is, she loves him, after everything he’s done to her, and she still loves him. She knows what’s coming, weeks of not seeing anyone but him, lonely nights while she waits for him to come home, not to mention…

Suddenly, she sees a familiar face, one she is happy to see. She barely sees Lincoln barrelling towards her before she is swept off her feet by the bulky man. She giggles uncontrollably as he spins her around in his arms. Between spins, she can see Octavia standing paces away from where Lincoln is causing her dizziness. She shrieks as Lincoln drops her on her feet and she can finally get a good look at the man. His hairless head reflects the early morning sun, his hazel eyes, pouring out words he could never say to Clarke. The two of them had become so close before the war, he was and still is, her best friend. She looks down and what she sees upsets her. Sitting upon his heavy, proud muscles is a guard’s jacket, the ones that were worn on The Ark.

Before she can question him about it, Octavia drifts over to Clarke, weightlessly. She opens her arms, allowing Clarke to fall into them. Clarke and Octavia have never really seen eye-to-eye and Octavia had never been one for hugging but she had missed Clarke. The two have an undeniable bond, even though neither of them care to admit it. Clarke takes a moment to appreciate how much Octavia has changed since they landed on Earth. She looks more and more like a grounder every day, not that Clarke cares, and in fact she’s probably the only one who doesn’t. Her hair is tied back in braids, assuming by Lincoln, her face covered in war paint and a sword strapped to her torso. She hears an irritating sound come from behind her and turns around to see Finn clearing his throat.

“Let’s go to our bedroom so we can celebrate your return properly.”

Clarke wants to slap the grin off of his face but settles on rolling her eyes, turning on her heel, and walking away from him. She hears what sounds like fingers clicking and Raven and Octavia appear beside her, ‘escorting her’. Clarke can feel her blood boiling, she is so angry that he doesn’t trust her to walk to their bedroom without running away. She’s so angry that she’s letting herself be controlled by him. She’s angry, because she loves him.

“What the Hell is going on here, O?” She questions, her voice calm. Her problem isn’t with Octavia.

“I don’t know, Clarke. A lot has changed, Finn has changed.”

Clarke almost scoffs at hearing about how Finn has changed. Finn hasn’t changed, he never will, he’s just finally showing his true colours. Octavia and Raven lead her into a small bathroom, there is a bathtub, barely big enough for one person on the left hand side of the room and a toilet, smeared with shit to the right. The whole room and everything inside is made of stainless steel, and Clarke hates it, it’s tacky. Her jaw drops as Raven and Octavia begin emptying buckets of warm water into the bath tub for her. She gasps, preparing to say something when Octavia holds her index finger to her lips as a warning. In that moment Clarke hears footsteps. Finn walks through the door, his head held high, without knocking, wearing nothing but his boxers.

“Okay ladies, you can leave me and my fiancée alone now. It’s been a while.” He wears a sickening grin proudly across his face.

The women nod apologetically towards Clarke before turning to walk out of the door.

Finn has other plans, he grabs Octavia by the shoulder, stopping her. “You might want to tell your ape to keep his hands off of my fiancée, before I do much worse to him than what has already been done.” He grins as Octavia lets out a whimper and quickly walks out of the room.

“What the Hell Finn?” Clarke screams, barrelling towards him as though she is six feet tall.

He catches her wrist, twisting it, before it can connect with his chest.

“Get in the bath,” he growls, through gritted teeth.

Clarke lets out a gentle, quiet sob as she slowly begins to undress in front of her fiancé. She can feel his eyes violating her with every item of clothing she removes from her body. She wants to scream, she wants to cry, but she cannot let him see what he is doing to her. As she strips her last item of clothing, she moves towards the bathtub, not realising until now, how badly she had been craving a bath. As she lifts her leg to step into the bathtub, she feels a pressure on her chest and suddenly falls to the cold floor. She looks up to see Finn, peeling his boxers from his legs, a smug grin on his face. He had pushed her.

She watches as he climbs into the bath, his clean skin feeling the warmth of the water before Clarke’s can. He snaps his fingers at her, as though she is his pet, misbehaving, and points toward the inviting water filling the tub. She swallows thickly as she picks herself up from the floor, dragging her now aching body towards the bathtub. She clings to the bar beside the tub for dear life as she hoists her leg over and into the warmth of the water. She barely has time to drag her other leg into the bath before Finn yanks her on top of him, her arse connecting with his member. He lets out a distorted grunt as his hands begin to crawl sensually over Clarke’s bare flesh. She tries to push his hands away, feeling uncomfortable with the contact.

“You’re dirty!” He snaps, trying to convince her that he had been washing her body.

To emphasize his point, he runs his wet hands through Clarke’s mangled hair, and she almost begins to relax at the touch. It feels almost loving, but loving is not Finn. He releases a terrifying laugh, an evil laugh as his grip on Clarke’s thick locks tightens. She brings her hands up to protect her head from the pain of the tugging, but he clamps one large hand around both of her fragile wrists as he yanks on her hair. Her neck clicks and she is now facing him, looking into the eyes that she loves so much. How could they belong to someone who has hurt her so much?

He relents slightly, loosening his grip on Clarke’s wrists. She gently places them in her lap, giving up the fight with him. He will win, he always does. He can tell Clarke has given up and smirks to himself as he resumes his fondling. His fondling becomes grabbing and tugging, he pinches her breast and Clarke knows she will be left with a bruise. She lets out a quiet yelp and feels a fist connect with the right side of her waist. She has learnt her lesson, she can’t react when he is using her body for whatever he pleases. Clarke gasps as she is lifted into the air and pulled back down onto her fiancé’s member, but this time, it’s inside her. She can hear him grunting as he controls her movements. He doesn’t stop until he is completely finished with her, pushing her off of him, and throwing her head into the wall beside the bath tub. He climbs out of the bath, a look of disgust on his face and venom in his words when he speaks.

“Clean your hair,” he spits, “and the bath, it stinks of fish.”

He leaves the room and Clarke is left in a bathtub filled with semen and blood. She sobs quietly as she begins to use the filthy water to clean her hair. She doesn’t know why she puts up with this, it’s not her. Clarke has never let herself be controlled, not by anyone, not even her own mother. She’s scared that Finn is making her lose herself, and she couldn’t even see it until she escaped into the woods. Now she’s back, she’s letting him do it again and she doesn’t know why. She is finished cleaning her hair and moves onto cleaning the bath. She is still unclothed and the cold air is sending chills through her entire body as she leans over the tub, using a cloth to wipe it over.

As she cleans the filth from the tub, she thinks back to what it was like when Finn actually cared for her, when he snuck away from the dropship to bring back pencils for her to draw with. When they snuck away to sleep together for the first time, in an old, buried automobile. He took her virginity that night. When he was the one to make Clarke open her eyes to what had really happened when her father had been floated. When it wasn’t Wells, but her own mother who had turned her father in to the council. When he told her he was in love with her. It all started with a small pinch to the back of her neck…

“Clarke! Get in here for fuck’s sake! I have a treat for you.” 

She heard him call from the other room, quickly snapping her out of her trance. She hastily finishes cleaning the bathtub, throwing the cloth across the room, before practically running into the adjoined bedroom. This room is supposed to be shared by the couple, but Clarke can only see Finn’s belongings. His clothes, gun and other stupid collectables Clarke deemed useless. She begins to walk over to the drawers, holding what she assumes are her clothes when Finn pulls her into him, smacking her head on the top bunk of the bed. She whimpers quietly, earning herself a hard punch to the inner thigh. He throws her to the floor, commanding her to kneel before him. She does as she is told, in fear of being hurt by him again. He is still naked when he sneers at her.

“Suck it.”

Clarke lets out a sob and before she can lean into his groin to obey him, she feels his fist connect with the side of her face. She makes no sound, tears spill down her cheeks as she complies. His disgusting groans fill the space around them again as Clarke takes herself back to a time when she felt safe, protected.

Her mind is filled with images of emerald green eyes, a medium shade of brown, soft lips and flawless skin. She is wearing her war paint again. Clarke is in her tent, speaking with The Commander. She can’t make out what she is saying, she is focusing too heavily on her lips. She stares at them, wanting to feel them on hers, wanting to taste The Commander. She looks up into piercing green eyes for mere seconds before her wish is granted. Her lips are on Clarke’s and they move rhythmically with her own. She is safe.

A cry of pain pulls Clarke back into the real world. She has no time to adjust before a foot collides with her stomach. She reels over in pain as the next blow comes, this time it hits her ribs. He kicks her over and over and over. He kicks her in her stomach, her chest, her arms, her legs, her neck and her head. Clarke begins to lose consciousness, the last thing she sees is Finn leaving the room, his lower body wrapped in only a towel. She hears him say something.

“How dare you bite me, bitch.”

She’s slipping, she cannot hold on any longer. The world around her disappears and she is safe.     

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I hope this wasn't too graphic. Let me know what you think, and if I need to change anything. Any feedback is welcome, good or bad. Should I continue?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT - Hey guys, so I'm really glad you're all enjoying this story and I'm so happy that you all hate Finn. It's taken me longer than I would have liked to update and updates may be a little slow as I'm staying with my sister. She's expecting and my partner and I need to be here to look after my nephew. I will post as often as I can, thank you.

Clarke’s eyes fluttered open to the feeling of cold water on her forehead. Every inch of her body is searing in pain. She must have bruises all over her body, not to mention cuts or broken bones. How could Finn do this to her? He had been bad before, but never this bad. Maybe this was Clarke’s punishment for leaving The Ark. Maybe he had this planned from the moment he realised she was missing. Her eyes stinging from the sunlight pouring through the window, she looks above her to see what is happening. She sees a woman standing over her, and for a moment she thinks it might be…

“Must have been a nasty fall.” The voice didn’t belong to her.

Clarke tries to sit up, rubbing her eyes. “Yep,” her voice is groggy.

“Cut the crap, Clarke.” Octavia. “What really happened here?”

“Nothing, Octavia.” She made him mad.

“Clarke, I’m not stupid, I know you,” she insisted, “I know when you’re lying, so just tell me.”

Clarke let a sigh escape from her lips as she finally sits up, “It was Finn.”

Octavia’s jaw visibly clenches at the name. The two stay silent as Octavia cleans Clarke’s wounds. She reaches behind her, pulling something out of a bag that Clarke hadn’t noticed until now. A needle and thread. Clarke didn’t realise it was this bad, but she’s thankful that Octavia came to help her. She keeps her mouth closed as the other woman threads the string through the eye of the needle. Clarke lets Octavia lift her hand into the other girl’s lap as she begins to stitch up the gash that ran from the tip of her ring finger, down to the middle of her palm.

“What happened?” Octavia muttered.

“I don’t know. The last thing I remember, I had- in my mouth- I zoned out and felt him kick me in the stomach. He kept kicking. I watched him walk out of the room in a towel. He said something about me biting and being a bitch and then I blacked out.” Clarke spilled.

Octavia nodded, ripping the thread with her teeth, before tying it. She moves onto the next gash, situated on Clarke’s upper thigh, making Clarke look down at what she is wearing. She has on a shirt, miles too big for her, and Finn’s boxers. Confusion creeps across her features, and Octavia watches her, feeling the need to explain.

“It’s Finn’s.” Clarke already knows. “You have no clothes in this room, since you won’t be leaving, he is adamant that you wear his. No one but him and me are allowed in, you’re not allowed out so no one will see you. His words, not mine.”

Clarke’s jaw clenches and she refrains from speaking. Octavia fills the silence.

“He took Lincoln.”

Octavia’s face shows no expression. Clarke knows this too and her jaw clenches.

“What has he done to him?” She asks, through gritted teeth. 

“He’s in Lockup.” Her expression is still blank. “Fifty lashes, no food, no water, until Finn sees fit.”

Clarke’s anger is replaced with sorrow, “because he hugged me?”

Octavia nods and neither of the girls say another word as Clarke’s wounds are cleaned and stitched.

Clarke speaks as Octavia stands to leave. “You can’t tell anyone, O. I love him.”

Octavia ignores her, slinging her bag over her shoulder and leaving a sobbing Clarke, in search of her brother. She walks hastily along the corridors of what was once The Ark, towards the exit. She has to refrain from running as she slips through the threshold, leaving her out in the open. She looks around and sighs. Finn has changed everything. The grass is no longer trimmed, it grows wild. The trees have been cut down to suit his needs, to create his stupid collectibles and the water supply is diminishing quickly, following his daily baths. She spots her brother from across the field and begins a steady tread towards him. She reaches him and opens her mouth to speak.

“Bell, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s up, O?”

“Not here,” she leads him into an empty guard’s tent, realising that it’s now nightfall.

Bellamy looks at her, confusion lacing his expression.

“Clarke is in trouble.” Octavia states, continuing before her brother can speak, “I need you to help me get Lincoln out of Lockup so we can go to Polis.”

“Polis?”

“The Commander is the only person Clarke will listen to.”

“Finn has all the keys, Octavia. It’s impossible,” Belly exasperates.

“So you distract him, I grab the keys. Pack a bag for me, I need to go and check on Clarke real quick.”

She begins to exit the tent, “and Bell?” She pauses for him to look at her. “No one knows.”

Bellamy nods, walking away from his sister to help her with possibly the most dangerous thing she’s ever done, but he trusts her. He trusts Lincoln to look out for her. He throws some uncooked meat into the bag along with some make-shift matches, courtesy of Raven, dried fruit, water, sleeping bags, blankets and water. The bag is packed and midnight is approaching. He waits for her inside the tent in which they talked earlier. The flaps of the tent swing open, revealing a flustered Octavia.

“We have to go now, he’s just finished in a council meeting,” she breathes.

Bellamy nods, jumping to his feet, and follows his little sister into The Ark. They walk briskly down numerous corridors, turning left and right until they reach the council room. They relieve the current guards of their duty and stand, waiting, by the door. They begin to think that Finn had already left until the door swings open and that irritating blue bomber jacket come into view. He walks past them, looking down on the siblings as he struts. Bellamy clenches his jaw, nodding to Octavia as he calls for the boy he would rather pummel to the ground.

“Finn! Can I have a word?”

“What do you want, Bell-end?” The scruffy looking boy teases.

“I just want to know what’s happening with the watchtower.” Bellamy smiles begrudgingly.

“It isn’t even built yet,” he scoffs, turning to walk away.

“But, when it is?” Bellamy asks, not skipping a beat.

“When it is, you will be the last to know if you continue like this,” he huffs, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and please my fiancée.” His grin sends a chill down Bellamy’s spine as he continues down the corridor until he is out of sight.

“Did you get them?” Octavia holds the keys up for her brother to see. “Let’s go.”

The siblings break into a slow, gentle jog towards Lockup. Octavia can barely contain her excitement, she hadn’t seen Lincoln since Clarke’s return. Bellamy had been the one to tell her what Finn had done to her boyfriend. Finn had delivered the fifty lashes himself, whilst forcing Bellamy to watch as he tortured his sister’s lover. Bellamy had been appointed guard from that moment, sneaking in food and water for the grounder, against Finn’s orders. Bellamy signals for Octavia to stay put as they reach Lockup. She nods as he walks, back straight and arms swinging by his side, like a soldier, to the gate where the guard stands.

“I’ll take it from here, Miller.”

The guard nods, walking down the hall as Octavia slips into a crevice between the walls. She cranes her neck, checking that he is out of sight, as Bellamy signals for her to come out. She sprints quietly over to the gate, fumbling with the keys. She tries every key on the hook, until one slips into the keyhole, and she turns it. She bursts into the rooms, her forehead pressed against her lover’s through the bars. She once again fumbles with the keys as Bellamy trails in behind her. The padlock falls to the floor and a six foot beast barges through the cage, swooping his lover off of the floor and into his loving arms. He places several kisses atop his lover’s head before her brother speaks.

“We gotta get out of here.”

Lincoln nods and all three take off in a quiet sprint, taking the back route to the tent in which the siblings spoke earlier. They stop several times, Lincoln and Octavia pressed against the wall, around the corner, waiting for Bellamy to give them the all clear. They continue their sprint until they reach the emergency exit and Bellamy pushes the door open. He checks for guards and, seeing that there is none, he calls for his sister and her lover to run to the tent. They run together, all three panting for breath, until they reach the tent and clamber inside. They allow each other to catch their breath before Lincoln breaks the silence.

“What’s going on?”

“I need you to go to Polis with Octavia,” Bellamy responds, catching his breath.

“Why?”

“Clarke needs her,” Octavia pants, knowing Lincoln will understand who she is referring too.

“From here?”

“Yes,” Bellamy answers.

“We can’t, there is no way we can travel to Polis from Arkadia on foot.”

“So we stop in TonDC, borrow some horses from Indra,” Octavia quips.

Lincoln nods, knowing that there is no use in arguing with Octavia. Bellamy hands over the bag along with a needle and thread, and some rubbing alcohol. Lincoln nods his thanks before slinging the bag over his shoulder and grabbing Octavia’s hand. They run towards the gap Jasper had created in the fence, hand-in-hand. Lincoln gestures for Octavia to slip through and she does, her lover on her heels. The two do not stop running until they are far enough, so not to be seen by anyone back at The Ark. They slow to a fast walk, their hands intertwined. The two walk in silence until Octavia can stand it no longer.

“How far is the walk to TonDC?” She knows, but wants to make conversation.

“We will be there by dawn,” Lincoln replies, “Now what is it you really want to ask?”

“What did he do to you?”

“You already know, Octavia.”

“I want to hear it from you,” she pleads.

Lincoln stops dead in his tracks, turning to face his lover, “You know, don’t make me hurt you all over again. I’m fine, Octavia, just a few scratches. Your brother did worse when he captured me,” he chuckles. “That boy does not know how to use a whip.”

Octavia smiles half-heartedly, slipping her hand back into her lover’s. The two begin to walk at a steady pace and Octavia takes the opportunity to admire the Earth, for the first time since she landed in the dropship. The trees, so tall and full of life, all merge into one, their leaves forming a canopy above their heads. The rustling of leaves and twigs beneath their feet makes her feel alive, for the first time in her life, she can live freely. She no longer has to hide her very existence. She couldn’t imagine spending this moment with anyone other than Lincoln. She came here, not only to live, but to love and he proved that to her. He continues to prove his love to her with each passing day. As her eyes focus on the glowing butterflies before her, she loses her balance, tripping slightly, but not enough for her to fall. She is tired and, as though Lincoln senses this, he scoops her up onto his back, his hands holding her in place as she drifts off to sleep.

When she wakes, she is propped up on Lincoln’s back, before the gates of TonDC. She slips off of her lover’s back, staring up at the eight foot gate, decorated intricately with images of trees and animals. All that Earth has to offer. Her eyes are everted to what is beyond the gates as she sees a thick, burly man approaching. He has a tribal tattoo climbing up the right side of his face and his beard swallows his chin. His hair is as long as Octavia’s and braided skilfully. He hauls the gates open to stand face-to-face with the travellers.

“ _Linkon kom trikru_ ,” he nods his respect, “ _Okteivia kom skaikru_.”

He signals for the couple to follow him and they trail closely behind. He leads them to Indra, the leader of the clan, and she is the first to speak.

“ _Linkon kom Trikru, Okteivia kom Skaikru, chit yu gaf?”_ Indra speaks in her native tongue.

“ _Emo gaf in a gapa,”_ The tattooed man speaks for them.

 _“Ai op. Mafta ai op.”_ Indra commands.

 They follow the woman further into the village, nodding their thanks when a majestic, white horse is handed over to them. Lincoln helps Octavia climb on, before strapping the bag to the horse’s saddle and climbing on himself. He guides the horse toward the gates but not before speaking one last time. This time, he directs his words towards the bearded man.

“Nyko!” The man looks up at Lincoln, “ _ai op yu dena, ai bro.”_

Before Nyko can respond, the two lovers are galloping towards Polis. The tread of the horse is heavy and the two bounce with the stride of the horse. Lincoln is positioned behind Octavia, holding her up, should she decide to sleep once more. The two ride in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Octavia thinks of Clarke and her wellbeing. She should not have left her like that, but she was given no choice. She knows that the only person who can save her lies beyond the gates of Polis. She tells herself that the outcome will be worth whatever pain Clarke may go through whilst she is gone. Lost in her thoughts, she drifts off to sleep once again.

This time, when she awakes, she is sitting outside the gates of Polis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Linkon kom Trikru – Lincoln of the Tree People.  
> Okteivia kom Skaikru – Octavia of the Sky People.  
> Chit yu gaf? – What do you want?  
> Emo gaf in a gapa – They seek a horse.  
> Ai op. Mafta ai op – I see. Follow me.  
> Ai op yu dena ai bro – See you soon, my brother.


	5. Chapter 5

Octavia, still heavy with sleep, drags herself from the back of the horse, watching as Lincoln follows closely behind. She stares in awe at the gate, much larger than the one she had laid eyes on in TonDC. The designs, the structure, far more intricate than those she had seen at the previous grounder camps, but this is no grounder camp. This is the grounder capital, the home of their Commander. She does not get much time to appreciate the delicacy of the design or the beauty of the walls before the gates are dragged open, revealing Polis, in all its glory.

As she steps through the open gates, the bustle of markets and grounders fill her ears. The smell of meats roasting infiltrate her nostrils and the sights of crumbling buildings, standing high above their heads cloud her vision. Her feet move on their own as her mind is preoccupied with the beauty that is Polis, even in nightfall. The stone paved floor leads them towards the tallest building in the capital. Two bulky men stand in front of the building, their swords crossed in front of the door, and they make no attempt to move them as the couple approach.

_“Ai gaf chich yu Heda op.”_ Lincoln speaks in his native tongue and the two warriors stand aside.

They have been granted access to The Commander’s home. The guards give them directions on how to get to the war room, not that Lincoln needs them. He had been to Polis several times when he was under her command. They turn corners and follow walls, Octavia taking in the sights before her. The Commander has several paintings hung on her walls, not much of the wall is bare. Octavia wonders if the rest of The Commander’s home is like this, but right now, that is not her problem. Her problem is Clarke, she wants to save her and the only way she knows how, is the Commander.

_“Ai gaf chich yu Heda op.”_ Lincoln repeats to the guards outside of the war room.

The couple have gained access once again, only this time, they must come face-to-face with The Commander for the first time since they betrayed her. They stepped into the room, the two guards on their heels, expecting to be shouted at, told to leave, or maybe even sustain an injury, but instead they receive a tired, lifeless question.

_“Chit yu gaf, Linkon?”_

“ _Heda_ , Clarke is in danger.”

The Commander’s ears prick up, like a puppy hearing a toy squeak for the first time.

_“Gonot,”_ she commands and the two warriors slip out of the door. _“Sen daun.”_

The couple sit at the far end of the table, watching as The Commander sits at the opposite end. Octavia takes this opportunity to look her over. She has bags under her usually bright eyes and her hair is falling from its braids. Her clothes are dishevelled and they don’t look like they belong to her. She is wearing patchwork leather pants, black denim covering what were once holes. They look like they belong to The Commander, but the t-shirt. It is plain white, a colour that The Commander does not wear, it is discoloured slightly, and there seems to be a stain on the right hand shoulder. A stain that can be caused by one thing, and one thing only. Monty’s moonshine. The Commander is wearing Clarke’s t-shirt, but how did she get it?

“Your thoughts are loud, _Okteivia kom Skaikru._ ” The Commander quips, startling Octavia, “She left it in my tent, minutes before we were called to war.” Her expression becomes sorrowful at the memory of the mountain and how she abandoned _Skaikru;_ abandoned Clarke.

As if she suddenly remembers who she is, her expression becomes blank as she speaks again.

“You say Clarke is in danger,” she states. “Explain.”  

It is Octavia’s turn to speak. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her, _Heda_. She keeps insisting that she loves Finn, but he treats her like shit. I didn’t know where else to go, you’re the only one she will listen to. I need you to help her.”

“I am not quite sure that still stands, Octavia,” she sighs. “Bring me my steed.”

The Commander drags herself to her feet, practically crawling from exhaustion, over to a table in the corner of the room. On it, there lay her dagger and her sword in its sheath. She pulls her armour from the wall, hauling it over her shoulder and clipping it into place under her breasts. She shakily lifts her sword and attaches it to her body, silently cursing herself for looking and feeling so weak in front of Lincoln and Octavia. She takes a deep breath and shocks the couple by standing straight and launching her dagger into the air. She watches it spin before gravity takes hold, pulling it downwards. She makes no attempt to catch it and the two onlookers shudder when the dagger falls into the pouch, attached to her thigh. She is ready for war.

The three unlikely musketeers exit the war room, wasting no time in heading for the streets of Polis. Once they reach the thick, crisp night air, Octavia and Lincoln draw in a sharp breath, feeling that no air is as fresh as the air in Polis. No oxygen keeps their hearts beating than the oxygen in Polis. The two regain their composure, noticing that The Commander has already mounted her horse. They begin to dread the walk back to their own until they see, not Indra’s horse, but two horses. One is black, sporting a red saddle and long, thick mane. The other, is brown, with a diamond shaped patch of white hovering over his face. He sports a white saddle and his mane is cut short.

“You cannot ride comfortably on the same horse. I had my warriors bring you horses, equipped with fresh food, water and clothes. Nyko has come to retrieve Indra’s horse. He has taken it back to TonDC.” The Commander states, sitting atop her white stallion, her mane grew longer and thicker than Lincoln’s horse and she is wearing a black saddle.

Lincoln nods his thanks as he gracefully hoists himself up onto the black horse, watching as Octavia, slightly clumsier than Lincoln, but not ungracefully, mounts the brown horse. The Commander gently tugs on the reigns, sending the stallion into a slow trot. The others mimic her actions, following their Commander back out into the forest. They watch her carefully, her back straightened and her untidy hair cascading gracefully down her back, the natural curls stopping in the middle. The movement of the horse causes her to sway gently, but not once is she lifted from the saddle. They think that maybe her horse is less clumsy than theirs but really, she’s an experienced rider. They ride in silence, at the same pace, for hours before The Commander breaks the silence.

“You say Finn is not treating Clarke the way she deserves to be treated?”

Octavia nods, waiting for The Commander to continue, “How so?”

“With all due respect, _Heda_ , it’s not my place to tell you. It’s Clarke’s business really.”

“So, you come to my home, in my _capitol_ , to tell me that Clarke is in danger and you are in need of my help, but it is Clarke’s business.”

“I’m sorry, _Heda_ , I’m sworn to secrecy.” Octavia pouts.

 The Commander hums as the sun begins to rise in the distance, they must have been riding for almost three hours. The travellers still have much of their journey ahead of them, but The Commander, tugs on the reigns, stopping her horse dead in her tracks. The couple trailing behind her are startled, bringing their horses to a stop as well. They watch as the woman in front of them slides, elegantly, off of her stallion, pulling a pouch of water from her horse’s saddle. The couple assume they are taking a break and slide clumsily off of their horses, repeating The Commander’s actions. She places her water pouch back into the stallion’s saddle, before bending over to retrieve a coupe of sticks off of the floor. She begins rubbing them together as the two others gather dry leaves, grass and twigs, throwing them into a heap on the ground. After a few minutes, the wood begins to spark and The Commander lowers it into the pile.

Lincoln starts to blow on the sparks, slowly allowing them to spread into a flame as Octavia searches the bag for food. She finds a large slab of uncooked meat and hauls it onto the fire. The Commander sits in the dirt, her back up against the trunk of a tree. Even leaning against something, she somehow manages to keep her posture. The couple sit opposite their Commander, sharing a tree trunk. All three of them stare into the fire, watching the meat cook, as they get lost in their own thoughts.

“Clarke doesn’t know you came to Polis,” The Commander states.

“No, she doesn’t,” Octavia admits.

“What reception do you think I will be receiving when I arrive at The Ark?”

“Who knows, _Heda_?” Octavia sighs, “Who knows?”     

The meat is cooked and Lincoln and Octavia devour their portions as though they had not eaten in days. Although, they probably hadn’t. all the days had rolled into one, they are unsure of when they last ate or slept, all they were sure of is that Clarke needed them to bring The Commander back to them. The Commander ate slower than Lincoln and Octavia, although she too, had not eaten for days. Once they were all finished eating, they stood to stretch their legs and as the women clambered back on top of their horses, Lincoln put out the fire.

It takes another five hours of agonizing silence before Camp Jaha is even in sight, but when it is, The Commander cannot believe her eyes. There were no trees surrounding The Ark, no protection, no camouflage for the _Skaikru._ Tacky, incomplete structures surround the border of the land, drawing more attention to the camp. Who the Hell is in charge around here? The grass is so long, a predator could easily use it to sneak into the camp and kill everyone within its walls. Suddenly, The Commander feels guilty for leaving Clarke here. If it wasn’t for her betrayal, Clarke would have been in Polis, with her. Safe, from everything.

Gathering all her strength, she takes a deep breath, before tugging on her horse’s reigns. She allows her stallion to trot at a pace she feels comfortable, in no rush to reach The Ark. She fears Clarke’s reaction and is here with only Lincoln and Octavia. She knows nothing of the reaction she may receive from the _Skaikru._ Her just being here could spark tension, possibly causing another war. The last person she wants to start a war with is Clarke. Her horse stops outside the gates of The Ark and she looks behind her, to see Lincoln and Octavia several paces behind her.

She sees both familiar and unfamiliar faces staring back at her through the gaps in the fences and her anxiety peaks but she does not let it stop her. She inhales sharply.

_“Ai gaf in Klork kom Skikru!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, I love reading your comments :)
> 
> Translations:  
> Oso don kom op gon chich op Heda – We have come to speak to The Commander.  
> Chit yu gaf, Linkon? – What do you want, Lincoln?  
> Gonot – Leave.  
> Sen daun – Sit.  
> Ai gaf in Klork kom Skikru! – I seek Clarke of the Sky People!


	6. Chapter 6

The Commander’s breath hitches in her throat as the gates are opened, revealing the one person she wishes she didn’t have to see. Her blood begins to boil and her jaw clenches as his shoulder length, dark brown hair is brushed away from his face, revealing the mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes. The Commander knows that she should not be angry with the boy. She cares for Clarke, yes, but Clarke is not hers and she is not Clarke’s. For all she knows, Clarke could hate her. Yet, here she is, standing in front of the boy who is said to have mistreated her only weakness. No matter how hard she tries to contain her anger, her lip curls up into a snarl.

“You have no business being here,” the boy spits.

The Commander slides gracefully from her horse’s saddle, her eyes now pouring her anger out into his. She wants to speak, but before she can, she recognises the face and build of the body barrelling towards the gathering at the gate. She cannot see what is happening behind her, but she knows, and she holds her right hand into the air, signalling for Octavia to stay on her horse. The man comes to a halt, stopping only paces away from The Commander, and places his hands on his knees to help him catch his breath. His thick curls fall over his eyes as he gasps for air.

“What is it, Bellamy?” The Commander asks, her voice laced with concern.

“It’s- its Clarke. She- she’s gone,” he pants.

Finn sees his opportunity as everyone begins whispering and gasping into thin air, “Seize them!”

The Commander turns sharply on her heel, “Go, now! To Polis, you will be safe there! I will find Clarke.”

The two waste no time in tugging sharply on their horse’s reigns, causing them to rear as they turn, galloping away from Camp Jaha, without a second look. The Commander rips her sword from its sheath, turning back towards Finn. She holds a look that tells him, he should fear her. She moves slowly, in her battle stance, towards her horse. Although she is walking backwards, her balance does not fail her, her stance, not once, wavers. Her horse, as if she had seen The Commander do this so many times before, trots to stand before her, allowing The Commander to haul herself onto the stallions back without turning her back on the enemy.

“I will come for you, _Fin kom Skaikru._ ” The Commander spits as she turns into the forest.

Finn watches her ride away, with a smirk on his face. The Commander will not find Clarke because Clarke does not want to be found by her, only him. But he will not look for her this time, he has other plans.

The Commander rides for hours, her muscles are aching and she is tired, she is hungry but she will not relent. She cannot help but think, think that if she had done something differently back at the mountain, Clarke would not be in this mess. Clarke would be in Polis with her, in her arms, in her heart, in her bed. She lets her mind wonder, allowing her subconscious to put her into bed with Clarke, to think of what she might do to her. A whimper sounds from the space before her. The Commander, snapping back into reality, wonders if it might have belonged to her, until it sounds again. She tugs sharply on her horse’s reigns, causing her to startle into a gallop.

 She nears the sound, her heart beating in her chest. It sounds human and it sounds hurt. She wants so badly to find Clarke, but part of her hopes that this is not her. The sound seeps into her ears, so loud and so agonised that when she reaches the source, she has to lift her hand to her mouth, to hide her shock. It is Alphege, one of The Commander’s most trusted warriors. A single tear forms in her eye as she looks down on his lifeless form. Blood surrounds him, not one inch of his body is spared from the thick substance. His face is pushed into the dirt, and he has stopped struggling. The Commander approaches her warrior, gently turning his body so that she could see the damage. She almost wishes she hadn’t when the sight before her makes her heave.

His eyes are missing, black voids sit where they once were. Several gashes lay across his face, one trails from the bottom of where his left eye used to sit, down to the bottom of his cheek. It curves onto his chin, adjacent to a slit in his lips, it starts between his lips, curving up into the right side of his face. The flesh of the cut spreads, showing the bone beneath. Yellow puss seeps from each and every wound, causing The Commander to swallow the bile rising in her throat. She cannot see the extent of his wounds, blood and puss cover his body, merging hundreds of cuts into one. She kneels beside him, allowing weakness to spill from her eyes as she stares down at his once beautiful face. She jumps as a loud, sharp breath crawls through the air.

“Alphege?” The Commander speaks, visibly frightening the man. He quickly recovers.

“C-Commander, I have s-seen her.” He croaks, choking on his own blood.

“Save your breath.” She laces a hand in his matted locks, stroking the blood soaked braids that sit atop his head. He refuses to listen.

“I h-have seen C-Clarke.” He gasps. “She heads towards _Azgeda_ , you must s-stop her, Commander.”

The Commander nods once, ready to stand when he speaks again.

“T-There is one m-more thing you m-must know, Commander. _Fin kom skaikru_ , h-he has done something to h-her.”  

“I am aware, Alphege, and he shall-,”

“N-No, Commander,” he interrupts, “There is s-something b-beneath…”

His breathing becomes shallow and his head falls into the dirt beneath him. His whole body goes limp and The Commander can see that he can no longer speak. Whatever he wanted to tell her about Clarke, she would have to work out herself. She is not willing to let one of her warriors use their last breath, to warn her of what a silly sky boy has done. The Commander will find Clarke, and she will save her, whatever it takes. She pulls her dagger from her boot, her face hardening.

 _“Yu gonplei ste odon.”_ She whispers as she holds the blade to his throat, dragging it towards her body. Alphege makes no noise and neither does The Commander as she mounts her horse.

Images of his body shuddering under her blade, the soft touch of his hand atop hers makes her heart swell and her eyes water. She suppresses the images and the feelings and gently kicks her horse, sending her galloping in the direction of the Ice Nation. It is a four hour ride, but a seven hour walk and she is just hoping that Clarke has walked, although she’s not quite sure where Clarke would get a horse from. The Commander rides until her back is sore and her legs are aching. She has not stopped riding for three hours now, and still, no sign of Clarke. She sighs, looking around at the earth before her. The Commander had not noticed the beauty of the world before Clarke fell from the sky, perhaps it was because Clarke had brought that beauty with her.

Images of blonde hair and blue eyes engulfed her vision. She pictures Clarke, with her hair cascading over her shoulders, the way it had done since their first meeting in TonDC. She always looks the same, but never has her beauty faltered. The Commander had let Clarke confuse her, mess with her head, her thoughts, from the moment she refused to leave her to the _puana._ Clarke had been the first person to truly care for her, whether it was for her people, or for herself, anyone else would have left her to the _puana,_ but Clarke did not. The Commander had stayed awake that night, looking over the blonde woman, so young, so naïve, yet so… perfect. This was the moment Clarke’s beauty seeped into The Commander.

She watched blonde waves settle atop her sleeping form, her arms tucked into her chest. Her steady breathing shifting her body ever so slightly. The way she barely moved in her sleep, but mumbled names and phrases that The Commander could not comprehend. She listened to the light snoring escaping the woman’s desirable lips. Her cheeks, chubby and red, brought a smile to The Commander’s lips as they moved with her nose as she wiggled it. She looked like a baby rabbit, just born, learning her senses. Her curves were clearly visible as she lay on her side in the dirt.

The Commander sits outside the gates of _Azgeda,_ all images of Clarke seeping out of her brain, crawling back to where she convinces herself that they should be. Nowhere. She takes a deep breath, preparing herself for the most uninvited, unwelcomed conversation she may face in her lifetime. She is ready to open her mouth to speak when she hears something. It sounds almost like an echoed, distorted cry. She ignores it, clearing her throat to speak, when she hears it again. This time, it is louder and sounds more human.

“ _Heda_?”

She ignores the man standing before her, not noticing the open gate as she tugs on her horse’s reigns, steering her in the opposite direction. Her heart is pounding in her chest for the second time that day. She hears the noise again and it becomes clear to her, now. The noise is someone throwing up, a woman, throwing up. Her palms are sweaty and her heart feels as though it will beat out of her chest at any minute. The woman doesn’t sound healthy, but this time, she hopes it is Clarke. She needs to see her, whether she is okay or not, she needs to see her. The Commander’s horse stops as the cover of the trees disappears, leaving them in the open. Grass covers the floor on which the woman is laying. She has no doubt in her heart, in her mind as she gasps her next words.

“Clarke…”   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I still really like where this is going and I'm sorry I haven't updated much but hopefully we can get back to regular updates because I'm really enjoying writing this and I'm really hoping you're enjoying reading it. The next chapter is probably, in my opinion, the best one, so let me know what you think, if you're enjoying this too, any feedback is welcome and I will try to update as soon as possible.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


	7. Chapter 7

Clarke looks up to the sound of her name, to the sound of _her_ voice. The sun shines into her eyes, blocking her view. She cannot see who has called out to her, but she can guess as she hears footsteps coming towards her. Just as her face comes into view, Clarke feels her stomach churn and she leans over, facing away from the figure to release the bile in her throat onto the floor, with a blood-curdling scream. The footsteps become faster, breaking out into a sprint until she feels a hand on her shoulder. She is not scared, she is not startled, and she is comfortable as she looks behind her, vomit still clinging to the corner of her mouth for dear life.

“Lexa?”

The woman before Clarke nods once, allowing a small smile to slither across her face. She has done it, she has found Clarke. Before she can respond, Clarke’s body slumps over, into a heap on the floor and for a fleeting second, Lexa panics. She has just found Clarke, she cannot, and she will not lose her again. She gathers all the energy she has left in her weak, malnourished bones, and lifts Clarke into her arms. She looks down at the lifeless form in her arms and her eyebrows furrow, the woman before her is Clarke, but she does not look like her. Her face, once tan and bright is now a ghostly white, removing the pink from her cheeks and the life from her eyes. She is thin, too thin to live, but somehow, she is living and she is in Lexa’s arms.

The Commander, before she can get lost in Clarke’s beauty, carries her over to the stallion, waiting in the trees. She lifts the body onto the horse, positioning her as though she were awake and ready to ride. Her legs are on either side, her arse in the saddle, her torso slumped over onto the horse’s neck. Lexa clambers onto the steed, behind Clarke, and pulls her lifeless body towards her. She wraps one arm around Clarke’s waist, pulling her backwards to insure that her back is pressed against Lexa’s front. She will not fall off, she is safe. Clarke’s head rests on The Commander’s shoulder as she grips her horse’s reigns with her free hand. With a flick of her wrist, her horse is galloping, into the trees.

She looks down at Clarke’s sleeping form, noticing that she is dressed in only a t-shirt, far too large for the slender girl, and a pair of _skaikru_ undergarments. From what Lexa has learnt, they are men’s undergarments. This realisation seeps into her veins, making her blood run cold, they obviously belonged to the boy they call Finn. Her fists clench and she shakes her head, her lips pursed, to try and release the anger she feels towards the little peasant boy. He may be Chancellor, but to Lexa, he is nothing more than a bug. A bug she could squish between her fingers and feel no sympathy, no mercy. She lets out a sigh as she looks back down at Clarke’s face, every ounce of anger she felt just moments ago, slinking away into the thick, darkening sky.

The past few days, since Lincoln and Octavia had come to her in Polis, had rolled into one. Lexa had not noticed the sunrise, or the nightfall that crept over the Earth. She had not slept, she had not eaten, and she had not touched a drop of water since just before arriving at The Ark. She guesses she has been away from Polis for at least two days, and her generals must be awaiting her return. They must be worried about her, her people anxious as to when she will return. Lexa is more than just a Commander to her people, she is their friend, their agony aunt, their hero. She finds herself looking down at Clarke again and tugs on the stallion’s reigns, stopping her in her tracks.

 

Leaving a hand pressed into Clarke’s back for support, she stumbles off of her horse, before lifting Clarke into the air. She positions her so that she is slumped over her right shoulder. Her breasts, pushing into Lexa’s spine and her arse level with her face. Lacing one arm around the backs of Clarke’s knees, Lexa pulls several furs from the bag she had her workers pack for her. Although her generals and warriors deemed them slaves, they never were to Lexa. To her, they were still her people and they are worth more to her than that. She always finds a way to repay them for what they do for her, slipping them hearty chunks of meat, as to make sure they could feed their families. She has given them bottles of rum on special occasions, allowing them to celebrate with the rest of their people. The point is, Lexa cares for them when no one else will.

She lays the furs down in the dirt, Clarke still dangling over her shoulder like a rag doll. Lexa keeps one hand behind her knees to keep her body in place as she layers the furs, one on top of the other. She leaves one spare, folding it down so it lays at the bottom as she shifts Clarke’s body. She jumps slightly, throwing her body towards the ground before catching her at the last minute. With an arm around her shoulders and her knees, she lays the body atop the furs. She allows herself one last look at the woman, before covering her with the last fur she had set aside, and moving towards her horse.

The bag strapped to the saddle holds fresh clothes, meant for Lexa, and she pulls them out. She looks them over, noticing that they are some of her favourite clothes. Eligia knew her well. Lexa, reminding herself to thank her worker for her help, drags the clothes, along with some boots, over to Clarke’s sleeping form. She sits and thinks for a moment, just watching the girl before her. Lexa needs to get her clothed properly, winter is approaching and she is wearing next to nothing, but she can’t help but think that she is overstepping a mark. There are some lines in this life that aren’t meant to be crossed. Eventually, she decides that Clarke’s health is more important to her than the lashing she will probably receive from the girl later.

She crawls, reluctantly over to the woman before her, pulling the furs off of her body. Lexa cannot hold in the gasp that escapes from between her open mouth. It forms an ‘o’ shape as she peels the last of the furs from her flesh. It is worse than what she thought. Bruises trail up her legs, starting from a large one that covers her right ankle, purple in colour, it pushes the skin up in a swollen welt. The second is slightly smaller in size, on her left shin, but is almost black it colour as it surrounds an angry slit in her flesh. The cut is so wide, almost pen width, and so deep that bone is visible through the rapidly clotting blood. The next is on her right thigh, this one is almost non-existent, but Lexa can see the difference in colour. Perhaps she wouldn’t be able to if Clarke’s skin was still tanned, but the brown against pale white skin, is noticeable to her. She lifts the white, almost grey, t-shirt away from Clarke’s hip, and almost wishes she hadn’t.

There, lay the worst bruise of them all. It had formed in the shape of a large hand, angry and so many different colours. Purple, blue, red. This is not all that Lexa worries about and she pulls the waistband of the undergarments down, just enough to see the extent of the bruise, nothing else. She sees the slice in this one and her heart swells, it starts from above the ring finger of the bruise, and curves down into the thumb. Yellow puss seeps from the wound, obviously infected, and again, Lexa can see bone through the slit. Her fist tightens, her eyes water, and it connects with the dirt beneath her. Pulling Clarke’s undergarments back up, she uses her fist, now buried in the dirt, to push herself off the ground.

 

She almost sprints back to the bag strapped to her horse, flinging things out into a pile on the floor, silently praying. Her eyes roll back in relief when she sees what she is looking for, and she dumps the pile back into the bag, running back to Clarke with an armful of supplies. She drops to her knees beside the woman and piles up leaves and sticks, a few inches away from her sleeping form, as to make sure she would not burn her. She strikes the tiny piece of wood against a nearby rock, watching as the tip bursts into a flame, and once again, she reminds herself to thank Eligia for what she has done for her. She drops the wood into the pile, before it extinguishes, blowing gently on the small flame. She watches it spread, gathering larger sticks and logs to place around the growing fire, keeping it under control.

She quickly pours water into a metal bowl, also packed for her, and holds it over the fire. She has no protection on her hands and the fire quickly begins to burn her skin. Lexa doesn’t care. The only thing she is worried about is Clarke, and her safety, her health. She curses the water silently, for taking too long to heat up, before it begins to bubble slightly and she hauls it from the flames, dropping it into the dirt. Miraculously, she doesn’t spill any water as she snatches a cloth from beside her and soaks it in the water. She rings it out, once again, burning her fingers, until the water on the cloth is lukewarm.

She takes a sharp breath, preparing herself for the task at hand. She starts with the cut on Clarke’s shin, gently pressing the cloth into the wound, clearing away the thick moisture. She wonders how Clarke hadn’t bled out as she scraped the dried blood away from her flesh. She takes the bottle of rubbing alcohol from beside her, wincing as she spills the liquid into the wound. Lexa is surprised that she hasn’t woken the sleeping girl, and panic begins to take control as she remembers just how painful rubbing alcohol can be, especially on a wound that big. She clambers over to Clarke’s chest and presses her ear against it. She relaxes a little when she hears her heart beating steadily through her flesh and bone. She needs to finish this quickly. She crawls back over to the wound she had been treating previously, pulling out a needle and thread from her pocket. With intense concentration, she slips the thread through the eye of the needle with ease. She inhales sharply once again as she lines the needle up with Clarke’s skin, and begins to stitch up the wound.

Once she is finished, she replenishes her supplies and repeats the same process with the slit in Clarke’s hip. It takes slightly longer than the one on her shin, due to the sheer size of the wound, not to mention the infection. She finishes with this wound, throwing her supplies to the ground and grabbing the clothes. She starts from the feet up, wrapping her feet in cotton socks, before dressing her legs in black leather pants. From the mid-thigh down, both legs had been ripped, with lace sowed on either side of the fabric. Lexa pays close attention to threading the lace through the metal rings, pulling the fabric together to create a complete trouser leg. She repeats the process with the other leg before moving onto her torso. Not wanting to invade Clarke’s privacy, she leaves the t-shirt right where it is, simply opting for a patchwork, black, leather and denim jacket. It is covered in zips, buckles and chains, making it difficult to dress the sleeping form before her. Finally pulls a thick pair of leather boots, again covered in chains and buckles, onto her feet.

Lexa pulls herself away from Clarke, but not before checking once again for her beating heart, and gathers her supplies into her arms, carrying them back to her horse. She dumps them back into her bag, trading them for a hearty slab of meat and some metal cups and plates. She returns to her fire, happy to see that it is still burning, and chucks the hunk of meat into the flames. She sits opposite Clarke, her back against a tree trunk as she pours out two cups of water. Then, she sits, and she waits. She watches Clarke sleep, thinking of how calm and peaceful she looks in her sleep. She wonders how anyone could harm something so beautiful, so perfect. Suddenly, Clarke’s body springs to life, jolting her into an upright position. Lexa jumps slightly, thankful that Clarke couldn’t see her.

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Lexa assures her.

Clarke looks down, noticing the clothes and the furs. “You dressed me?”

Lexa’s cheeks flushed, “I saw nothing other than what was already being shown.”

Clarke nods as Lexa hands her a cup of water. She gulps it down as though she had never before tasted water, allowing droplets to slither down her chin. She wipes at them as she is handed a chunk of meat. The two eat in silence, quickly but delicately, both wanting to cherish the meat that swirls elegantly around their tongues.

“What are you doing here, Lexa?”

“Lincoln and Octavia came for me, they told me nothing but what I needed to hear.”

“Which is?”

“You were in danger.”

Clarke’s heart swells and melts, all at the same time, and she cannot bring herself to speak, in fear that she may just collapse into The Commander’s arms. The two sit silently for what feels like hours, until Lexa breaks the deafening silence, her face stoic, although her eyes show true emotion.

“What did he do to you, Clarke?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, especially not to you,” Clarke snaps, instantly regretting it.

“I understand,” Lexa sighs, thinking for a moment, “My offer still stands Clarke.”

“What offer?” Clarke questions, genuinely confused.

“Come to Polis with me, Clarke.”

“What makes you think I’d want to do that?”

Lexa snaps at this, “I only want what is best for you Clarke, for you to be safe. You are not safe at Arkadia and you are not safe here. You do not have to speak to me, you do not even have to look at me, if that is what you wish-,”

“Yes.” Clarke cuts her off.

“Yes?” Lexa asks, confusion evident in her voice.

“I will come with you to Polis.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT:
> 
> So, I'm having some trouble with this story at the moment and I'm finding it really hard to write the next chapter. No matter what I write, it just doesn't seem good enough. I want to keep posting regularly though and I have an idea for a new work. This way, if I am struggling to write one, I can update the other. Your opinions really matter to me, so I want to know what you think of this before I start writing the new one. It is still based on the TV series, I don't like to come away from it too much, but it is a completely different plot. Let me know what you think and I'll upload the first chapter as soon as possible. Thank you for your support.


	8. Chapter 8

When Clarke wakes, she is drowning in a pool of her own sweat. Her hands instinctively grip onto the closest thing to her as her body bolts upright, every muscle shaking in the aftermath of a nightmare. A nightmare she doesn’t remember, a nightmare she cannot completely categorise as a nightmare. It felt so real, so terrifying and she kicks herself for not being able to remember what it was about. As her breathing steadies, she begins to inhale a familiar, yet distant smell. Lavender. Clarke isn’t herself right now, she can’t remember what she had dreamt of the previous night and now she cannot pinpoint where she has smelt this scent before. She wipes at blue orbs, clearing them of the discharge that had gathered there overnight and finally, she can see.

She takes the opportunity to look around, get her bearings. She is startled to find that she is in a bed, a hand-carved, wooden bed, covered in fur blankets and feather pillows. Realisation hits her and she rips the furs from her body and practically jumps up from the mattress. Her hands fall onto her forehead as her breath catches in her throat, she breathes deeper, faster, but nothing can pull the air into her lungs. She looks around, her eyes darting from one corner of the room to the next. Her vision blurs but she can still make out the candles scattered around the room, each in their own dedicated area. She sees hand-painted images, crawling across the walls, reds, blues and greens blurring into one colour, a colour Clarke can’t recognise. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a large, wooden box. It is battered and chipped, the paint is peeling from the sides and black, leather straps secure the lid to the frame. She stumbles over to it anyway.

She fumbles with the buckles on the straps, pulling the box open to find a heap of clothes. She finds undergarments, a pair of black, denim jeans and, noticing the left leg had been ripped off, mid-thigh, a black, leather replacement. She finds a leather band, connected by a buckle, and adds in to the pile. She digs further, looking for something to cover her torso. She finds a black, almost shredded, tank top and what looks to be a black net. As she pulls out the net, she sees a brown, leather gauntlet hanging from the material and fumbles through the box, looking for the other one. When she finds it, she throws it into the pile with the rest of her clothes, and stumbles back over to the bed. She throws it on the furs, not caring if it wrinkles.

She begins tearing at the t-shirt Finn had forced her to wear, ripping it into shreds and throwing into a heap on the floor. She takes a slightly gentler approach when it comes to peeling, the pants Lexa had dressed her in, away from her legs. Now, she is left in only her undergarments and she quickly discards those too, replacing them with the ones she had found in the box. Grounder undergarments are nothing like the sky peoples. The bra is just a strip of fabric and Clarke pulls it over her head and onto her breasts. She is surprised at how comfortable it is. The pants are thin, brown, cotton shorts, which cling to Clarke’s legs as she slips them on. She takes a moment to appreciate the comfortable undergarments that cling to her body for dear life before quickly proceeding to change.

She hauls the denim jeans onto her legs, buttoning and zipping them up when they reach her hips; they are tight, but fail to be uncomfortable. She then pulls the leather leg replacement up her shins, strapping it in place, mid-thigh, where the denim ends, with the leather strap she found. She hastily pulls the tank top as she wrestles with the net-type-thing. She finally figures it out, pulling it over her head and strapping the gauntlets to her wrists. She hauls on her boots and grabs her gun and knife from the table beside the bed. She quickly slips the knife into her boot and her gun into the holster she had previously strapped to her hip. Once she is dressed and armed, she bolts towards the door, hauling it open and almost ripping it from the hinges.

“Clarke?”  

She looks into the eyes of her ex-lover and suddenly, all the pieces are put together. She is in Polis, with Lexa. She is in Polis, with Lexa because she ran from the Ark. She ran from the Ark to escape Finn. Why would she do that, she loves Finn? She can only come to one conclusion, and it’s the wrong one, but she doesn’t know that. Lexa kidnapped her, stole her from her lover, and took her from her home. She cannot believe that this woman ever meant safety to Clarke, all she is, is pain, suffering and heartbreak. Lexa is poison.

Before Clarke realises what she is doing, she spins, knife in hand, and lunges toward The Commander. The knife is at Lexa’s throat and Clarke’s eyes are scanning her face. Lexa’s face shows no sign of shock, fear or anger, but Clarke can see the emotion in her eyes. Lexa’s eyes show betrayal, hurt and- no- it couldn’t be.

“I’m sorry.”

Clarke’s eyes water, her lips twitch and her head hurts. She turns again, clearing Lexa’s neck from the blade of the knife, why can’t she do it? Why can’t she kill her? Sobs fall from between her lips as the knife falls to the floor with a blood-curdling twang. Clarke’s mind races as her eyes scan the room, her hair falling into her face as she anticipates The Commander’s next move. Her eyes glued shut, she stands, waiting for the blade of The Commander’s dagger to make the first cut, to kill her where she stands; but it doesn’t come. Instead she is met with a voice softer than feathers.

“I never meant to turn you into this.” Her eyes begin to water. “You’re free to go.”

Lexa turns her back to Clarke, her eyes wet and her heart heavy, she grips the golden handle, feeling the cool metal against her fingertips.

“Lexa, wait,” Clarke’s voice is pleading and she doesn’t know why. She watches Lexa freeze, her actions coming to a halt in anticipation. “Take me to see Polis.”

Lexa turns back, and although she knows Clarke should be punished for what she has done to The Commander, she can’t bring herself to see her hurt; because of her. Despite her mind being in two about the situation Clarke had just put her in, she says nothing and simply nods, her hand back on the handle. This time, she allows her muscles to tug the door open and she stands, her posture that of The Commander once again, beside the now open door. She signals for Clarke to walk through the door before her and she does.

Clarke cannot believe what she has just done and she can’t seem to come to terms with how calm Lexa is; she had just tried to kill her. She curses herself for even having that knife in her boot, in her hand. She knows Lexa betrayed her, she knows she can’t forgive her for that, but she doesn’t know why she held that knife to her throat. She hates Lexa, but all she has done is kept her safe, looked after her, protected her and this is how Clarke repays her? She curses herself, silently, as she walks beside The Commander, down the concrete stairs, and into the streets of Polis.

Before Clarke sees Polis, she smells it. The scent of freshly killed and cooked meats waft under and into her nostrils. They are accompanied by the scents of lavender, vanilla and mint. Clarke closes her eyes, allowing the several scents to invade her nostrils, not realising that she is being watched. The Commander’s eyes are focused on Clarke and the corner of her lips pull up into a small smile. For once in her life, Clarke isn’t worrying about everyone else, she isn’t focusing on the pain of her past.

She’s happy.

Lexa watches on as Clarke’s eyes scan the streets of Polis, landing on everything the grounder capitol has to offer. Before she knows it, a hand is placed in hers and she is being pulled further into the crowd of stalls and people. Clarke slows down beside a meat stall and Lexa takes the time to look down at their intertwined fingers. Her heart swells as she realises that Clarke hasn’t let go yet, even though they have come to a stop, even though Clarke has Lexa where she wants her. The Commander looks back up, towards Clarke, and she sees her mouth water, as her eyes scan the meat piled onto sticks, and then it hits her. Clarke hasn’t eaten since before they arrived in Polis.

“May I have one of those, Lycus?” Lexa asks the man behind the counter.

He nods, finding the largest stick, with the most meat on it and handing it to The Commander. Lexa nods her thanks and takes the stick from Lycus’ hand. The two girls, Clarke now slightly disheartened, take a couple of steps further into the trade market before Lexa hands the stick over to Clarke. The Commander cannot hide the slither of a smile that crawls along her face as Clarke’s eyes light up, like a little puppy, when she takes the meat from Lexa. Not once do their hands part and Lexa begins to think that Clarke does not realise what she is doing but before she can mention it, a soft, sweet voice rings through her ears.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Clarke sighs, “I tried to kill you, not ten minutes ago.”

“Everyone makes mistakes, Clarke,” Lexa’s voice is soft, and Clarke can see the pain in her eyes.

Lexa’s statement invades Clarke’s mind, blurring her thoughts and feelings. Is this Lexa admitting she made a mistake back at the mountain, or is Clarke just overthinking things? Her thoughts are pushed to the back of her mind as she takes her first bite into the inviting flesh of an animal she cannot distinguish. She walks until she reaches what looks like a boxing ring, only more historic. A circular wall, waist high, sits in the centre, several yards behind the market. It is surrounded by practice targets and a weapon stall sits to the left of the area. It holds swords, bows and arrows, daggers, axes, every weapon ever created sits behind a burly man, running the stall. Before Clarke can ask what the area is, although she has an idea, Lexa’s hand slips from hers and The Commander is being dragged towards the weapon stall by a young, blond boy.

“Spar with me, _Heda_ ,” the boy asks, bouncing on the spot in excitement.

Lexa looks over to Clarke, as if asking for her permission and Clarke’s lips crack into a smile as she nods once. Lexa allows a small smile before she is tugged, by the boy, down to his level.

“She’s pretty,” he whispers, “Is she your girlfriend?”

Clarke hears his comment and her cheeks flush as Lexa responds, a chuckle in her voice.

“No, Aiden.”

“Do you want her to be?”

Clarke is sure her cheeks are bright red as she watches The Commander shake her head, with a smile on her face. Lexa turns away from the boy, asking the burly man guarding the weapons for two of his best swords. The man nods his understanding, handing over a long, silver sword. The hilt, pure gold with intricate patterns dancing along the edges. Lexa takes it in her right hand, knowing the sword is for her. She waits for Aiden’s sword to be handed to her, his is slightly shorter, with a simple, black hilt. As soon as she has it in her hand, she passes it to Aiden, watching his face light up as he saunters over to the battle ring.

Lexa meets him in the middle of the ring and Clarke walks to the edge, wanting a front row seat, as the two prepare to fight. They both stand in similar stances, legs shoulder width apart, arms stretched out with bodies twisted to the side. Aiden darts towards Lexa, his sword poised, only to have it hauled to the side by Lexa’s. With his sword out the way, The Commander throws hers into what would have been his shins, had he not jumped to dodge the blade. He smirks, using his sword to tackle Lexa’s to the ground. Without her sword, Lexa relies on only defence. She dodges many hits before Aiden hooks his foot behind her ankle, pulling it forward and dropping his Commander. She feigns breathlessness as his sword points towards her throat.

Aiden giggles before running off to his friends, bragging about how he defeated their Commander, leaving Lexa on the floor, on her back. Before Lexa can get her bearings, a hand is in hers and she is being pulled to her feet. When she is back on the ground, her eyes focus on blonde hair and sky blue eyes. The smile Clarke is wearing, suits her.

“You let him win, didn’t you?” Clarke asks, turning to look at the boy and his friends.

Lexa follows her eyes, hers landing on the boy as well, “Yes.”

The Commander turns to face Clarke, slipping a hand into the blonde’s cautiously. Clarke doesn’t pull away, she only looks down at their hands before meeting Lexa’s gaze. The two spend several minutes just looking into one another’s eyes, reading their expressions. Lexa is the first to break the contact as she remembers that she needs to return the sword. She leads Clarke over to the stall and hands the sword back the grounder, running the stall. When she turns around, Clarke’s back is towards her, her hair swept to one side. The Commander opens her mouth to speak, but freezes when she see something move under the flesh of Clarke’s neck.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as Clarke drops the meat onto the floor, her body shaking, pulsing, as she begins to foam at the mouth. Lexa runs towards her, faster than she has ever run in her life as Clarke’s body begins to float backwards, seizing. Lexa reaches her just in time for Clarke to collapse into her arms and The Commander has no doubts that this is linked to what she has just seen in Clarke’s neck and she thinks she may know who is behind it.          

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Really loving the feedback guys :)


	9. Chapter 9

Lexa’s heart pounds in her chest, her mind racing with the possibilities of what may be happening to the girl she cares so deeply for. She scoops Clarke’s lifeless body into her arms, properly, one arm cradling her upper back and the other supporting the back of Clarke’s knees. The Commander fights the urge to let the tears, she’s holding back, to roll down her cheeks. She fights the fog consuming her green orbs as her vision blurs, she can’t think, she can’t see and she can’t hear. A ringing sounds in her ears, as though a gun had just gone off, right next to her ear. Her knees are weak and her arms tremble under the weight of Clarke’s body, but she will not let that stop her.

Everything seems to move in slow motion as Lexa gallops towards the huge double doors, which lead to her home. Her voice is slow and deep as she almost screams at the guards to open the doors for her. She speeds past the guards, despite them trying to tear Clarke from her arms. The Commander would scream, shout, anything to stop them from taking her- Clarke from her arms, but she fears too much for the girl’s life. She cannot waste her time, shouting at the guards, screaming her energy away, all she can do is outrun them. She’ll be damned if she lets them take Clarke, all she can think about is getting the girl in her arms to safety, a place where she can protect her, the way she should have back at the Mountain.

Her body aches under the weight of the still body in her arms, but her legs do not give, her feet only push harder, faster against the spiral staircase she finds herself ascending. After what seems like an eternity of running from the guards, hearing echoes of voices calling out to her, asking if she is okay, wanting to tear Clarke from her arms, she reaches the top. With aching arms, and trembling legs, she pushes forward, gently carrying Clarke’s body into The Commander’s chambers. She moves fast, softly placing Clarke on her bed, running to close the doors before anyone can slip past. Just as she thinks the door will close, no intruders coming to take Clarke away from her, she witnesses a grey cloak, wafting between the small gap in the doors and into the room. Lexa ignores the figure as she puts all of her remaining energy into pushing the door shut.

The door is shut and she allows herself a moment to release a sigh of relief before she runs to Clarke’s side. She lifts her head slowly, supporting it as she turns it to the side, allowing her a full view of the back of her neck. Her breath hitches in her throat as she watches the skin on the back of Clarke’s neck squirm, bumps forming as an unknown being moved beneath it. She gently places Clarke’s head down, back onto the pillow. She looks over Clarke’s face, her nose pooling blood down to her chest, and her eyes glued shut. Lexa takes her index finger and thumb, using them to separate Clarke’s eyelids. She stops the gasp from leaving her lips as she is greeting with nothing but the whites of the girl’s eyes. She pulls her fingers from Clarke’s eyelids, quickly placing her ear to the girl’s chest. Realization hits when she doesn’t hear anything and she leaps from the bed.

“ _Heda_?” The voice comes from the third person in the room. “I do not think this is wise.”

“ _Shof op,_ Titus.” Lexa is tearing the room apart as she speaks, “Lay her on her front.”

The Commander rips drawers open, launching whatever she finds inside onto the floor as she hears footsteps behind her. She knows Titus is doing what she asked of him and turning Clarke onto her front. Her relentless searching and destruction comes to an end as she throws her body towards a simple, wooden, carved table and snatches her dagger from its surface.

She shuffles back over to Clarke, passing Titus on the way, with her dagger in her hand. She reaches Clarke’s side and takes a deep breath, preparing herself for what must be done. She shakily forces her hand, wielding the dagger, down to Clarke’s neck, stopping before the blade can touch Clarke’s skin. She exhales, pushing Clarke’s long, blonde waves from the skin on her neck, before finally allowing the blade to settle on the flesh that resides there.

She pushes the blade into silky, smooth flesh, watching a thick, red substance crawl from the incision. Her muscles tense as the corner of her lip turns up in an innocent snarl, she hates hurting the sky girl. She drags the blade further down into milky skin, making a two inch cut at the back of Clarke’s neck. Her dagger falls to the floor, with a clank, as her eyes glaze over. Her eyelids flutter as she feels herself losing consciousness, but she forces herself back into the real world, pouring a generous amount of rubbing alcohol over her fingers. She winces as her index finger slithers into the wound, feeling around inside Clarke’s neck, for what? She doesn’t know. Her finger is drenched in Clarke’s blood and she still isn’t breathing. Lexa doesn’t have much time. She feels around frantically, hoping, praying for her finger to land on something that just doesn’t make sense. As if her prayers have been answered, Lexa feels something brush up against the tip of her finger.

She gently pries it closer to the incision, slipping her thumb into the wound to get a grip on whatever is doing these strange things to the sky princess. She clasps it between her thumb and index finger, gently pulling it from the wound. She tugs on the foreign object, pulling it free and ignoring the blood that clings to it for dear life. She stares at it, it’s blue in colour, but almost transparent and it has a symbol on it, but she can’t quite figure it out. She wipes it on her pant leg before handing it to Titus and pulling Clarke towards her, so she is laying on her back once again. Positioning her ear against Clarke’s chest, Lexa realises she still isn’t breathing and becomes frantic once again. She places one of her hands on top of the other and pushes them into Clarke’s chest.   

“Titus,” her voice is strained as she continues her actions against the sky girl’s chest, “I need you to figure out what this is and report back to me immediately.”

“ _Heda,_ I think you should rest, the sky girl can-.”

“Now, Titus!” Lexa bellows as her hands continue working on Clarke’s chest.

Titus nods once, knowing The Commander cannot see him, and leaves the room, the foreign object in his hands. Lexa doesn’t relent, she keeps her movements at a moderate speed as she whispers words of encouragement to the lifeless form before her. Tears threaten to escape but she pulls them back as she presses slightly harder into the girl’s chest. She is ready to give up and the tears that she tried so hard to repress, fall silently as she presses, hard, once more into Clarke’s chest. When no sound or movement come from the girl, Lexa begins to weep, her head crashing into the chest of the lifeless form before her. She couldn’t save her this time.

“I’m so sorry, Clarke.” Lexa whispers, her voice shaky and her heart swollen.

Lexa refuses to move her head from Clarke’s chest as she weeps silently, already mourning the sky girl; the sky girl who gave her so much and received so little in return. The girl who cared about her people more than she cared for herself. The girl who would do anything for peace, even if it meant putting herself in danger. The girl who- is still breathing. Lexa’s head shoots up, and she quickly wipes at the tears that stain her cheeks, thinking she is imagining things. She runs a hand over the girl’s stomach, lowering her ear to Clarke’s chest for the fourth time that day. Her heart is racing as her ear finally touches the blood-soaked shirt that belongs to the sky girl. A sharp breath catches in The Commander’s throat as Clarke’s chest rises and falls, lifting Lexa’s head with it.

She quickly gets to her feet, ripping cloth from her own shirt and pouring water from the canteen over it. She gently lifts Clarke’s head, wedging the damp cloth between the skin on Clarke’s neck and The Commander’s bloodstained pillow. She rips more cloth from her shirt, repeating the process of pouring water over it before lowering it to Clarke’s nose. She gently wipes at the blood that had dried to the girl’s face, seeing that all of it is removed. She finally drops the cloth on the floor, quickly following and falling on her backside. She sits beside the bed, looking around the room at the mess she had made. Eligia would not be happy with her, but she will find a way to repay her. With that thought, The Commander’s eyes close and she drifts off into a peaceful slumber.

A shooting pain in her head wakes the sleeping girl, and she slowly and painfully pulls long, blonde strands of hair from her face. Once her eyes are free from the thick, golden locks, Clarke looks down towards her stomach, where the head of The Commander lays. Her braids are messy and they have been torn from their ties, leaving a tangled mess. Clarke can see the redness in Lexa’s cheeks as she sleeps peacefully on Clarke’s stomach. She feels The Commander shift, and quickly closes her own eyes, feigning sleep. When she feels the weight leave her stomach, her right eye slowly cracks open, watching Lexa as she moves away from the bed, stretching. She hears the girl let out a soft sigh and decides that now is a good time to awaken. She lets out a low groan and allows both of her eyes to open slowly, adjusting to the light of the late evening.

“Clarke,” Lexa whispers, her voice soft, as she turns to face the woman.

“You saved my life,” Clarke croaks, her voice groggy from sleep and cracked from dehydration.

Lexa nods once, afraid to speak in case her body or her voice betray her. Instead, she silently lifts the canteen of water from the set of drawers beside the bed. Looking into Clarke’s eyes, as though she were speaking to her, she slips a hand under her head, gently lifting it up. Clarke’s mouth traps the tip of the canteen and she allows Lexa to pour a generous amount of water down her throat. Water dribbles down Clarke’s chin and Lexa takes it as a sign that Clarke has had enough to drink. She places the canteen back on the surface of the drawers before she begins to search them, less frantically this time. She drags out a small needle and some thread before ripping a strip of fabric from her shirt, once again, exposing her belly button.

Lexa looks over to Clarke, watching as she tries to pull herself up into a sitting position. She offers a hand down to the blonde and she reluctantly takes it, allowing Lexa to pull her up. Once Clarke is seated, Lexa returns to her items, grabbing a lit candle from the table that held her dagger just hours ago. She brings the candle back to the bedside, holding the needle to the flame. She carefully pushes the end of the thread through the eye of the needle before pouring what was left of the water over her hands and the cloth. She looks to Clarke for permission, earning a nod in response as she moves Clarke’s hair away from the incision she had made earlier. She takes a deep breath, before rubbing gently at the blood that had dried to Clarke’s neck.

Once the area is clean, Lexa begins to push the needle through Clarke’s flesh, gently tying the wound together. Clarke can’t help but stare as The Commander’s defined abdomen is practically pushed into her face and, whilst Lexa works on fixing her up, she places a gentle kiss just below her belly button. Lexa freezes, her actions halting as she looks down into sky blue orbs. Clarke looks up at her with a passion in her eyes, a passion Lexa had never seen in her before. Clarke gently places a hand on the side of Lexa’s face, ignoring the pain that pulses through her muscles, as Lexa slowly lowers her face. The two girl stare into one another’s eyes, their faces now level. Blue meets green as Lexa slowly and gently pushes forward, ready to meet Clarke’s lips in the middle.

“ _Heda!_ ” The door swings open, as Titus saunters in and Lexa jumps from Clarke’s body, now paying full attention to the intruder, “I almost have it, _Heda_ ,” he pauses, “But I need help.”     

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm sorry it's taken me so long, I'm going through a bit of a hard time right now, June isn't the best month for me, I hope you can understand and that you still love reading this as much as I love writing it. Let me know what you think, I love reading your comments. Thank you so much for reading, and sticking with me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it has been a long time and I sincerely apologise for that, I have no excuse but I do, however, have an extra long chapter for you, filled with Clexa fluff. Also, I am thinking of starting another Clexa AU alongside this one. If you are interested, let me know and I shall post the plot with the next chapter of Escape and you can see what you think :)
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience and support and I hope this makes up for me being lazy ;)

“What do you mean, you need help, Titus?” Lexa huffs, still flustered from the moment she had just shared with the sky girl.

“Well, _Heda_ , I know what it is, I’ve seen it before,” Titus grumbles, “But I am unsure of what it does. The technology is far too advanced.”

Clarke pipes up from the bed, her voice cracked, “Raven can help, and she’ll know what it is.”

Lexa looks back at the blonde, “And if she, too, has this thing inside of her?” She lets out a sigh, clearly showing her annoyance at this inconvenience, “We do not know what it does, Clarke.”

“Which is why we need Raven,” Clarke stands, her arm over her stomach to ease her pain. “You took it out of me, you can take it out of her,” she pauses, “but I’m coming with you.”

“No, Clarke,” Lexa places a hand on the sky girl’s shoulder, “It is too dangerous, and I am not a healer.” Yet another sigh falls from The Commander’s lips.

“And what, Lexa?” Clarke’s voice has risen, “You think Finn will just let you walk into Camp Jaha and drag Raven out? You need me.”

Lexa considers the offer for a moment, before relenting. She nods once, “Titus, have Eligia prepare four packs and inform Lincoln and Octavia of Clarke’s plan, they will accompany us.”

Titus, obviously displeased with The Commander’s decision, turns on his heels and leaves the two women alone in Lexa’s bed chamber. The two do not speak, they simply stand in silence, thinking through the mission at hand. Clarke is the first to move, she is slow and Lexa fears that she may be hurt during their travel. She silently walks over to the sky girl, swinging her right arm over her own shoulders. Not a word is spoken as Lexa gently guides Clarke towards the door. She takes each step, slow and gentle, until the women reach the bottom of the staircase, Clarke’s arm still wrapped around The Commander’s shoulders. Lexa pushes forward, through the huge double doors of her home, and into the bustling streets of Polis.

Lexa gently lowers the sky girl onto the floor, as they reach Lincoln and Octavia, trying to ignore the throaty coughs that spurt from Clarke’s mouth. She witnesses the two lovers tending to their horses and she moves closer to her own horse. Lincoln carefully holds out a saddle to The Commander and she takes it from him, gently securing it to her pure white stallion. She finishes up and bends down to lift a brush from the pail of water Octavia had set out for them. She gently begins to drag it back and forth over her horse’s coat. What she is unaware of, is the sky girl watching her, admiring the way she cares for her steed. Clarke quickly averts her gaze when she notices a young woman, sixteen, maybe seventeen, approaching The Commander.

“ _Heda_ ,” the girl squeaks, bowing her head with respect, as she holds out her hands, revealing the packs Lexa had asked for earlier.

The Commander looks up from her steed and into the eyes of the girl, “Thank you, Eligia.”

The girl nods once before quickly, skittishly, hobbling off in the opposite direction. Lexa allows her horse one more quick drag of her brush, before dropping it back into the pail. Ignoring the snort she gains from her steed, she nods once in Lincoln’s direction, a silent order for them to mount their horses. She watches as they obey her silent command, before turning her attention to Clarke.

The sky girl seems more alert as Lexa slides an arm around her waist and effortlessly pulls her to her feet. Clarke’s body slouches into The Commander’s for support as the woman guides the blonde to the white stallion. Lexa slowly and carefully positions herself so that both her hands are either side of Clarke, gripping onto her curves. She looks deeply into Clarke’s eyes, warning her that this may hurt but it needs to be done.  The blonde, hearing Lexa’s silent warning places her hands on either side of The Commander’s neck. Her fingers grip gently onto the brunette’s shoulders as she is hauled into the air. She feels no pain as she lands softly on the saddle, forced to hold her own weight for a moment. Lexa soon joins her, climbing gracefully into the saddle behind Clarke.

Clarke’s body instantly becomes limp as she falls into the body behind her, the horse beginning a slow trot towards the gates that hold Polis and all its beauty. Clarke can hear the two lovers chatting quietly to one another behind her and it almost lulls her to sleep, but she stays awake, she will not miss this journey; she will not waste any more time she has to spend with Lexa. Her head falls back onto the shoulder behind her as they pass the gates. Without thinking, Clarke turns her head, nestling her face in Lexa’s neck and there, she places a gentle kiss.

The Commander’s eyes widen slightly at the unexpected gesture but she quickly composes herself, leaving a small smile on her face. Not once did she ever think that, after the mountain, Clarke would be leaning against her, in the saddle of her horse, kissing her neck. Honestly, Lexa believed that Clarke would never forgive her, that the pain she had caused would be far too much for the blonde to bury. As nightfall approaches, Lexa holds a single hand in the air, signalling for the two lovebirds trailing behind to halt. Lincoln immediately obeys, slipping from his horse’s saddle to begin setting up camp. Octavia mimics his actions, quickly following her lover to help. Lexa dismounts her horse slowly, leaving a hand on Clarke’s back as she shifts from the saddle. She repeats her process from earlier that day, placing her hands in the curves of the blonde’s side, and effortlessly lifting her into the air before gently placing her back on the ground.         

“Can you walk?” Lexa’s voice is gentle and Clarke gives her a nod, watching as she returns it. “I wish to show you something, Clarke of the Sky People.” She wears an innocent smile.

Clarke nods once again, standing straight. Her body no longer aches and she feels human again. Lexa leaves her standing alone to take a piece of fabric and a canteen from her pack. Clarke watches as she finds a stick, of reasonable thickness, and wraps the cloth around the widest point, which just so happens to be at the tip. Clarke walks with her as she gently lowers it into the fire that Lincoln had started shortly after dismounting his horse. Clarke watches Lincoln look up at his Commander, confusion lacing his features. They soon soften as he realises Lexa’s intent. None of the four speak as Lexa pushes forward, Clarke quickly matching her pace. The two walk in silence and it is not long before they leave what little path there was, and venture into the woods.

Clarke hears it before she sees it, the sound of running water, steady streams crashing into rocks. Fuelled by the sound, the feeling it gives her, Clarke’s speed increases until she is ahead of Lexa but the brunette hardly struggles to keep up. Lexa’s original plan was to keep things slow, so to be sure that Clarke wasn’t putting any strain on her weakened body, but she realises that the blonde is excited and doesn’t want to ruin that for her. If Clarke believes she has recovered, so should Lexa, even if she does worry about the sky girl. Lexa breaks out into a slow jog, quickly overtaking Clarke and the blonde does the same. It is not long before the two girls begin to race one another.  The wind hits Clarke like pellets as she speeds through the woods, her laughter ringing through the silence. Lexa allows a smile to spread across her face as her feet pound against the rubble. Her heels dig into the ground as she spins, skidding slightly as the force of a foreign body crashes into her front, sending the two hurling towards the ground.

Lexa’s eyes glaze over as she lifts her right hand, sweeping blonde strands away from the blonde’s face. She is met with crystal blue eyes staring back into Lexa’s emerald green orbs. Her breath catches in her throat as the blonde’s pelvis scrapes gently against her own. She slowly closes her eyes, not believing that this could be real before opening them to a lack of pressure against her front. She quickly picks herself up, brushing herself off, as she looks down at Clarke, the shorter woman wearing a smirk on her face. Lexa raises an eyebrow at the sky girl, clearing her throat as she gently shifts between the branches, not once turning her back to Clarke. The torch had been lost somewhere between their fall and apparently, the damp forest floor had put the flame to rest. The only source of light they have now, shines from behind The Commander as she walks backwards through the branches, never taking her eyes off of the girl only steps ahead of her. Lexa’s heel catches on a rock and she stumbles backwards, pulling Clarke’s with her. The two fall into the same position as they had just moments ago.

“Dammit, Lexa,” Clarke huffs, blowing the hair from her eyes as a small chuckle hits her ears.

Clarke finally looks up from The Commander and her mouth drops open as she stumbles away from the body beneath her. The smile never leaves Lexa’s cheeks as she stands once again. This time, she doesn’t bother brushing herself off, she just peels the clothes from her skin instead. Clarke stares in awe at the beautiful sight before her, water cascading down large, crumpled rocks, into a gentle stream below. Green grass spreads across the earth, leaving nothing uncovered. It is cut short and the blonde momentarily wonders why, until she realises that she doesn’t care. The smell of the earth, the grass, and the water invades her nostrils and she finds it hard to centre on one smell. A large mound of dirt and grass forms a hill off in the near distance and flowers scatter along the water’s edge. She finally releases the breath she didn’t even realise she was holding. A sigh slips from between her lips as she looks back at The Commander. Upon noticing the woman, yet another slab of air catches in her throat and she doesn’t know if it will ever dislodge.

Lexa smirks, winking at the blonde before she takes off, into a sprint, towards the water’s edge. She takes a deep breath as her feet lift off of the grass and into the air. She laughs loudly as her body is flung into the water beneath her. Her head resurfaces, but her body stays put in the water as she slowly slithers towards Clarke, her hand outstretched. The blonde shakes her head frantically and turns on her heels, ready to run as fast as she can, away from the water. The Commander expected this, and jumps from the water, wrapping her arms around Clarke’s waist as she walks backwards, this time towards the water’s edge. Her heel slips but she steadies herself, just long enough to lean down to Clarke’s ear and whisper a simple, “Trust me.” She then allows her body to fall backwards into the lake, the blonde still wrapped safely in her arms. The water rushes in from all angles as their bodies sink into the liquid. To Clarke’s surprise, she doesn’t panic. She allows her eyes to open, slowly adjusting to the stinging sensation. The water is so clear, she can see shoals of fish, swimming beneath the surface. Tadpoles cling together and other water life spread across the lake. She feels her body being dragged away, and almost rejects the feeling, until she remembers that she can’t swim and her oxygen supply is running out.

The two women resurface, and each take their own gulp of air. They regain their breath, and Clarke scoops up a handful of water before launching it at The Commander. Lexa’s mouth drops open, feigning shock, as she instantly retaliates, dropping her arm into the water before bringing it back up, spraying Clarke with the Lake water. The two continue assaulting each other with the liquid, spurts of laughter ringing out under the moonlight. Lexa suddenly becomes tired of splashing Clarke and grabs her by the waist instead, pulling her closer. Her fingers begin rubbing circles into the blonde’s sides and her eyes begin to droop. Before long, the circles become short bursts of tickling and Clarke’s laughter disrupts the silence. The blonde snatches Lexa’s hands, placing them around her waist as she lazily slings her arms over the brunette’s shoulders. Her head moves forward until their foreheads touch and they stay that way for what feels like an eternity, enjoying the proximity, enjoying the silence and how it feels to be wrapped up in one another.

“Why did you do it, Lexa?” Clarke breathes, wanting anything but an argument; just the truth.

“Clarke, my people never would have accepted my decision, had I decided to stay, I would have been killed and,” she paused, stopping the words before they could spill out, “and you had Bellamy.”

“So now you’re jealous?” Clarke snapped, not knowing what Lexa truly wanted to say to her. “You left me at that mountain because you were jealous? You made me go back with Finn because you were fucking jealous? I was going to get away from him,” she paused, “I wanted to go with you.”

“Clarke,” Lexa was cut off before she even had a chance to explain herself.

“Forget it, Lexa.” Clarke pushed the brunette away from her, turning to walk out of the water. The Commander followed her, tackling her to the earth beneath them. “Well this is a change of events.”

“Listen to me, Clarke,” Lexa snarled, Clarke’s wrists pinned to the grass, “I wanted to stay with you at that mountain but I knew that if I did, I would never see you again.” The Commander’s voice begins to soften, “I walked away because I was selfish Clarke, and I wanted to see you again. I wanted more time with you. I am not jealous of Bellamy, I know where you stand with him. I wanted to tell you the truth but I could not get my words out. Now I have.” Lexa rolls off of the blonde, but makes no effort to stand, she simply lay beside the woman, trying to regain her composure.

Clarke says nothing more as she allows her guilt to gnaw at her heart. The sun begins to rise and the women say nothing to each other, still. They simply stand, and Lexa pulls her clothes back onto her skin, with the exception of her long, black, leather coat. Having noticed Clarke’s shivering prior to her dressing herself, Lexa gently wraps the coat around the blonde’s shoulders. She chokes back a smile at the sight, the coat is far too big for Clarke and the bottom drags against the dirt. Clarke’s eyes droop as she takes her first step, her legs failing her once again. She plummets towards the earth, face-first, but not before Lexa can catch her and wrap her arms around the fragile blonde. Smiling down at the woman before her, The Commander scoops the sky girl into her arms, much like she had when she carried her to her bedchamber. With an adoring look down at the sleeping form in her arms, Lexa pushes forward into the trees, the weight in her arms not bothering her at all, in fact, she enjoyed it. After about a half hour of treading lightly over dirt and debris, Lexa reaches their camp, watching on silently as the two lovebirds pack away their belongings, chirping witty remarks at each other and laughing loudly into the air. Lexa looks on with sorrow, wishing that she could have with someone what they share. Being The Commander, she knows that it is only a dream for her, she would never truly know what it means to be happy. She thought her happiness fell from the sky when Clarke did, but it seems that, no matter how hard she tries, Clarke will never see her as anything more than a friend, a warrior, a grounder.

Lexa shakes the thoughts from her mind, her stoic expression ghosting her features, as she steps into the open air, into the sight of Lincoln and Octavia. Lincoln immediately struts towards his Commander, looking for any kind of reassurance, any sign of permission as he holds out his arms towards the sleeping girl. With a nod from The Commander, he takes the blonde into his own arms, mimicking their position. Lexa silently and swiftly floats over to her horse, patting him on the head before she pulls herself up into the saddle. She takes a moment to watch Octavia shift the last of the items from the ground and into her pack, before she pats the fire out with her boot. Lexa pays close attention to the woman, wondering if she was ever _skaikru_ , as she gracefully pulls herself onto her horse, patting the side of her neck a couple times. Lincoln had taught her everything she needed to know to become what he is; to become _trikru_. He had taught her well and Lexa believes that it was fate that brought them together, much like her and Clarke, although their relationship is nowhere near as romantic. Octavia was born for this, it just took Lincoln to make her realise it. Lexa leaves her thoughts with a barely visible smile on her face as Lincoln passes the sleeping girl up to her. Lexa leans down, placing her hands on either side of Clarke’s waist. She gently hauls her into the air and lowers her into the saddle.

“Lexa?” Clarke grumbles, her voice heavy with sleep, and her eyelids fighting a losing battle.

“Rest, Clarke. I shall wake you when we meet your camp,” Lexa reassures the blonde, watching as her eyes close almost immediately.

Clarke’s body slumps into Lexa’s, her head falling onto her shoulder, and her face nestled into her neck. The brunette nods towards the couple and Lincoln quickly mounts his horse, taking the lead with a gentle trot. The Commander falls between the couple, Lincoln in front and Octavia behind. At the pace they’re going, it will take twice as long, but Lexa knows how tired the blonde is, and she can’t help but blame herself. She was the one who dragged her away to her secret hideout, even though she knew that Clarke was still drained from her injuries. Lexa shakes the thoughts, before her guilt starts to eat her alive. They ride for a couple of hours before Lexa decides it’s time to stop for a drink of water. She whistles quietly, signalling for Lincoln to stop in his tracks, and he does. What The Commander does not expect, is Octavia approaching her steed, arms outstretched to take the sky girl from the brunette’s arms. Sensing her uncertainty, Octavia offers a gentle nod, which seems to ease The Commander’s doubt as she gently lifts the sky girl into the arms of her new warrior. Octavia carries the girl over to her lover as he lays a fur on the ground for the blonde. The warrior sets the sky girl down onto the fur and Lexa finally dismounts her horse, pulling her canteen from her pack. Canteen in hand, she saunters over to the sleeping girl, taking a seat on the boulder beside her, taking a swig from the bottle.

“Could I have some of that?” A gentle voice asks from beside Lexa, her voice groggy from sleep.

Lexa, slightly startled, hands the canteen down to the blonde, watching her take several gulps of the soothing liquid down her throat. The blonde sits up slowly, gathering her senses. She notices that the two lovers are sitting opposite her and Lexa and decides that now is a good time to discuss their invasion. “So, what’s the plan?” Her voice is scratchy as she rubs her eyes.

“I know how to get inside, but they’ll suspect me,” Octavia sighs, towards The Commander, rather than Clarke, her features laced with guilt. “Clarke has to be the one to find Raven.”

“No,” Lexa has a sternness in her voice that would frighten even the bravest of warriors.

“Commander, I can escort her in, I know of a secret passage and Bellamy will-,” Octavia is cut off by the slightly taller brunette, quickly reminding Octavia of her place.

“I said no, _Okteivia_!” Lexa spat, venom lacing each word as she spoke them, her blood boiling at the idea of Clarke being anywhere near her former lover.

“Lexa,” Clarke is beside the fired up brunette, and is possibly the only being who would dare to place her hand on The Commander’s knee, “Let’s take a walk.” Lexa growls at Octavia, but allows Clarke to pull her to her feet and into the woods. Once Clarke is sure that no one could hear them, she speaks again. “I know you’re worried, Lexa,” the blonde sighs, “but I have to do this.”

“I will not allow this, Clarke.” Lexa sighs, her expression stoic but her eyes fail her. Clarke has learnt to read Lexa’s eyes, and they convey worry, panic even.

The blonde approaches the concerned brunette, taking both of her hands into her own, trying to offer a sense of comfort. She lets out a gentle sigh before she speaks, “Lexa, you know Octavia is right. The only person who can be seen inside those walls without being caught, is me.” Clarke waits for Lexa to speak, but only silence follows her sentence.

Lexa will not look her in the eye, “What if he hurts you again, Clarke?” The brunette sighs, finally twisting her neck, to face the blonde. “I could not live with myself, you are my responsibility.”

“Octavia will watch over me,” Clarke promises, “I’ll find Bellamy, he’ll take me to Raven and I’ll bring her back. We got this, Lexa. I just need you to trust me.”

“Okay, Clarke. I will allow this.” Lexa stares into crystal blue eyes, “But on one condition only.” The brunette waits for Clarke to nod before she continues, “Octavia is a great warrior, and a master of stealth. She will find a way into your camp, and find her brother. You will be waiting outside with Lincoln and she will retrieve you when her brother accompanies her.”

Clarke knows that it is useless to argue with Lexa, so instead she offers a slight nod and places a gentle kiss to her right cheek, silently thanking The Commander for her trust. With small smiles on their faces, they return to the two warriors as they sit in silence on the ground. Clarke and Lexa sit opposite them, as they discuss the pros and cons of The Commander’s plan. It turns out that Lexa’s plan is practically flawless and Octavia sets to work drawing a map of the Ark, circling the secret passage. It is not long before the four travellers mount their horses and continue what was left of their now short journey. Clarke resumes her usual position, her back pressed against Lexa’s front, but this time, she does not nuzzle her face into the brunette’s neck, instead, she faces forward. She watches The Commander’s hands as she manoeuvres the reigns, controlling her steed with elegance. Clarke can only think as the horse picks up speed and they draw nearer to the gates of Camp Jaha, but what she begins to think about startles even her. She does not think of her pending adventure, the dangers that could face her inside her camp, instead, she thinks of Lexa and how unfair it is of her to keep playing with The Commander’s emotions. Clarke still feels as though she is not ready for a relationship, but she cannot deny the chemistry she shares with Lexa. She knows that her gestures are sending mixed messages to the brunette, and it is affecting her. She may be exceptionally good at hiding her feelings, but Clarke can see right through The Commander’s façade and she needs to make up her mind; quickly.

Familiar surroundings seep into Clarke’s mind, and her thoughts vanish, as Octavia’s voice rings through the silence, “Are you ready, Clarke?”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully this chapter will be better than the last and I think I've updated a little quicker this time, it's also a lot longer, I actually wrote this chapter and the next one all as one chapter but it was way too long so I had to cut it in half, so I will be updating soon. I'm currently writing the first chapter of my new fic, it's another Clexa fic because Clexa is bae, so I will upload that as soon as I'm happy with it, I've got a lot of ideas to play around with but hopefully you guys will check it out. Other than that, enjoy, and let me know what you think :)

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Clarke mutters, taking Lexa’s hand and using it to pull herself from the elegant stallion. Lexa soon follows, her feet landing in the dirt with an almost inaudible thump. The two women steady themselves, their eyes meeting briefly, as Clarke smooths her clothes down. She offers a gentle smile before grabbing her pack from the horse’s side. She gently hauls it over her shoulder, nodding slightly in Lexa’s direction. She takes a glance at the metal cage that was once her home, before disappearing into the woods. She hears the gentle patter of footsteps behind her, but she doesn’t feel endangered, so she assumes its Octavia and continues with her journey. She looks around, seeing nothing but green and decides she is far enough. She drops her pack on the floor before stripping away the grounder attire she wears; leaving her in just her undergarments. She begins pulling items of clothing from the pack she had brought with her and is surprised to see that they belong to the sky people. She makes a mental note to ask Lexa how she acquired them once all this is over. She lifts her arms to pull on the _skaikru_ t-shirt over her head when a slight rustling in the bushes stops her in her tracks.

She is startled for a moment before she realises that it is probably Octavia, and her heart rate slows again as a grin spreads across her face. “You can come out, O,” she chuckles, finally pulling the t-shirt over her head and down to her mid-thigh. She turns once the rustling gets louder and a brunette steps out from between the trees. It is not the brunette she expected, however. “Lexa?”

Lexa pulls her eyes from Clarke’s bare legs at the sound of her name, “Clarke,” she states, taking several steps until she is standing face-to-face with the blonde.

At the realisation of her attire, or lack thereof, Clarke’s cheeks flush, her voice faltering slightly as she croaks out a simple question. “What are you doing here?” The blonde’s initial shock at seeing The Commander begins to fade as she allows a soft voice to sweep through the air and into her earlobes. Her legs nearly fail her as she hears the concern in her ex-lover’s voice.

“I wished to see you, Clarke,” Lexa notices Clarke’s knees buckling and voices her concerns, “I still do not think you are ready for this Clarke.” Her eyes widen slightly as the blonde steps closer to her, closing the space between them.

Their noses are inches apart as Clarke places her right hand upon the single pauldron that rests on Lexa’s shoulder. The brunette’s breath catches in her throat as the blonde releases a gentle whisper, and she allows it to kiss her ears, “I need you to trust that I am.”

Lexa, not trusting her voice, simply nods, almost too softly to be seen by the naked eye, but Clarke sees it and pushes forward. Her lips are centimetres from Lexa’s and she feels a pulse of adrenaline course through her veins at the realisation that this could be the moment their lips touch again. Skin barely grazes skin when the brunette pulls her lips away from the blonde’s. She takes one last glance into crystal blue eyes before turning on her heels, her back to Clarke. The blonde allows the pain in her chest to silence her for a moment, until she watches The Commander’s feet begin to move.

Her voice is breaking, and it is barely audible, a cracked whisper is the only thing Clarke can manage to push through her lips. “Lexa?” The brunette’s feet do not stop, they only pick up speed, but Clarke has overcome the sting in her chest and sloppily sprints over to The Commander, taking her forearm between her fingers. “Lexa!” This time, her voice is back, and it is demanding to be heard. She gives a gentle tug on the wrist she holds, forcing The Commander to look at her.     

Lexa’s expression is stoic but her eyes hold anger, frustration and when she speaks, Clarke winces at the snarl in her voice. “You overstepped in Polis, _Klark kom Skaikru_ , and I allowed it.” She paused before correcting herself, “I ignored it, do not make me regret that decision.”

Lexa’s words hit Clarke like a ton of bricks but the adrenaline still crawls through her veins, giving her a false spark of bravery, and as The Commander turns to walk away once again, Clarke’s grip on her wrist tightens. Lexa looks back at the blonde, a fire in her eyes that Clarke had never seen before. She gathers herself and tempts fate, “You won’t hurt me, Lexa.” She wants to crawl under a rock when The Commander glares at her, her teeth barred, but she pushes forward, “You care for me,” Clarke thinks she has pushed Lexa too far when she rips her wrist from her hand, but she doesn’t move away from the blonde. Instead she looks up into Clarke’s eyes, with her own, slightly softer green orbs. She lets out a deep sigh at the pending contradiction between head and heart.

She finally makes a decision, and voices her thoughts aloud, “I do care, Clarke.” She can see the blonde wants to say something, but she is not finished, so she holds a hand up to silence her before continuing, cautiously, with her explanation. “That is what makes this,” the brunette uses her hand to motion towards the space between the two of them, “So difficult.” Clarke tries to speak, but her voice breaks with the confession and the realisation of what it meant for both her, and Lexa.  “We cannot keep doing this.” With that, Lexa turns on her heels, leaving a stunned Clarke in a small clearing between the trees, where she stands with nothing but a t-shirt on.

“Trouble in paradise?” A voice quips from between the trees. Clarke looks between the branches to see none other than Octavia. She offers nothing more towards the brunette, other than an inaudible mumble. Octavia sighs, losing her grin, “Come on, we need to get going.”

Clarke offers a small nod, turning away from the brunette, and pulling on a pair of jeans that fell from the sky with her people. She can barely think after her heated conversation with Lexa, but she forces it to the back of her mind as she slips on her boots and tucks her handgun into her waistband. She looks around, slowly, taking in every beautiful sight that she may never see again, before sending a gentle nod in Octavia’s direction. The loyalty that the brunette still holds for the blonde is unquestionable, unbelievable, after everything that the two have been through together. Octavia joins Clarke, at her side, and the two women walk back into the clearing they had come from. Clarke’s heart drops into her stomach when she notices that Lexa isn’t there to say goodbye, the only person there is Lincoln, who she assumes, is watching their possessions. He gently pulls Clarke’s pack from her hands, before placing a loving kiss on Octavia’s lips.

None of the three say anything as the two sky girls walk from the safety of the trees, into the open, until they find a covering of tall grass. They duck into it, still, neither of them say a word, too focused on the mission ahead of them. Octavia takes the lead, motioning for Clarke to follow her through the grass occasionally as they slowly approach the metal cage that trapped them for many years of their lives. It stole their youth until their journey to the ground, where Octavia found Lincoln and Clarke had the responsibility of being a leader thrust upon her. The blonde thought she had found peace when she met Lexa and even now, after everything, she believes that The Commander is the answer to all her questions, all her worries and her fears.

Clarke tries her hardest to ignore her thoughts of the brunette as they creep closer to the cage, pushing them to the back of her mind once again. Octavia beckons her towards a slightly dilapidated looking chunk of The Ark. Clarke follows, mimicking Octavia’s actions when she creeps up from her crouching position, but keeps her body slightly bent over. She watches the brunette tap gently on the metal sheet, checking that they are in the right place, before she scans her surroundings. She tugs gently on the thin sheet of metal, willing it to open, without making too much noise. She lets out a deep breath once the inside of The Ark is revealed to them through the small gap that shifting the metal had made.

Looking at the gap, just big enough for someone to crawl through, she turns her attention to Clarke, giving her a soft suggestion, rather than an order, “Stay here.”

“No.” Clarke’s eyes are dark and full of anger, determination. “I’m coming with you.”

Octavia tries to hide the hint of annoyance in her voice as she attempts to sway Clarke away from the idea. She has orders. “ _Leksa_ specifically-” she was cut off by a slightly more powerful voice than her own, slightly more demanding.

“Screw Lexa!” Clarke grimaces, instantly regretting her outburst. Lexa has every right to be mad at her, Clarke is the one playing with her emotions and she understands why the brunette is so upset with her, yet she still pushes, “Raven is my friend, my people, not hers.”

Octavia relents, sighing as she offers a disapproving nod, before using her left hand to motion towards the small gap that would allow their access to The Ark. Clarke’s eyes shift from Octavia to the opening in the thin, metal wall and she takes a few steps towards it. She hauls her leg up, and over the side of the opening, expecting her foot to land on the floor of the metal cage. Instead, her foot lands much sooner, the pain from her heavy footing surges through her leg, but she ignores it. Using Octavia’s outstretched hand to pull herself into the metal tunnel, she finally finds her footing, waiting for the brunette to follow behind her before she begins to crawl through what looks like a vent. She crawls for what seems like an eternity, Octavia still hot on her heels, before an artificial light begins to seep into the tunnel. Clarke picks up her pace, causing Octavia to do the same, both girls are slightly clumsy with their footing due to the lack of oxygen in the vent.

She stumbles into a metal room, almost losing her footing, but she gathers herself and offers a hand to the brunette. Octavia looks sceptically at the outstretched hand in front of her, before cautiously slipping her hand into the blonde’s. She lets Clarke pull her from the vent and she steadies herself, with Clarke’s help. The oxygen deprivation had clearly gotten to the brunette more than it had, the blonde. The sky girls take the opportunity to look around, to get their bearings, metal encases them, and they feel like they can’t breathe when they look around. Many hooks hang on the walls, supporting guard jackets, strips of leather that, for some reason, look like whips and a few guns hang in the corner. A small table is centred in the room, holding a few books and papers, but nothing of importance. The two women exchange a baffled look, before Octavia voices her commands.

“We need to find Bellamy,” she coughs, her lungs finally kick-starting again. The brunette heads towards the door, but a strong grip on her arm forces her to stop, and look back into blue orbs.

“No.” Clarke is being stubborn, for good reason, but she can see that Octavia is getting annoyed with her constant refusal, so she elaborates for the brunette, “We need to do this alone.” She presses, but Octavia doesn’t budge. “We don’t know how many people have this thing inside them.” Clarke puts emphasis on the word ‘thing’. “Your brother could be one of them. The less people involved, the better.” Octavia finally relents, relaxing slightly under Clarke’s comforting touch.

“So if we were Raven, where would we be?” The brunette asks the former sky princess, with a sigh.

“Electrical!” The two sky girls almost shout in unison, until they remember where they are and lower their voices slightly. The statement comes out as more of a hushed breath.

The two women slow their pulsing heartrates as they approach the door that leads them to the never-ending halls that make up their former prison. They exchange a sincere look, followed by a gentle nod as Clarke places her hand over the handle that would take them into their pasts. Octavia allows her hand to fall on top of Clarke’s and together, they tug on the handle, exposing the metal cage before them. They both take a deep breath as Octavia squeezes past Clarke, taking the lead as they push forward into the empty halls. Staying low, the two sneak through the halls, Clarke following closely behind her brunette friend. As they approach a corner, Octavia falls back, pressing her body to the wall and placing an arm over her friend’s stomach to push her gently against the wall beside her. She cranes her neck to see around the corner, and she spots two guards. Her ears prick up at the sound of her blonde friend’s name.

“There has been no sign of Clarke, but Chancellor Finn is certain of her return.” When the other guard doesn’t respond, the male voice continues, “He suspects that she is with The Commander.”

“Well he must be pissed,” a slightly less interested voice finally comes through, allowing Octavia to recognise it as her brother’s. He looks past the other guard, spotting his sister hiding behind the corner. Octavia signals for him to get rid of the guard she is unfamiliar with and his voice rings through once again, “Come on, I have suspicious activity to report to Chancellor Finn.”

Bellamy leads the strange guard away from his sister, allowing her and Clarke to continue their journey to find Raven. They are not far from electrical and Octavia, knowing this, picks up her pace slightly. The two still have their guards up as they sneak slightly faster through the halls. They fail to run into anymore guards and when they finally reach the door that leads to Raven’s workstation, both blonde and brunette press their backs against the door. Octavia looks to the blonde for permission and with a slight nod from Clarke, together, they push through the door. The hope visibly drips from their features once they realise that the room is unoccupied.

“No,” Clarke mumbles, pushing further into the room. “No!” she desperately begins tearing the room apart, as though Raven would be hiding among the mess.

Octavia forces the door shut, before anyone can hear the commotion, as she turns to the frustrated blonde, “Clarke, she’s not here.” Octavia is desperate for the sky girl to stop.

“That’s the point, Octavia!” Clarke snaps, “We can’t go anywhere else without being caught!”

Octavia opens her mouth to speak when she is silenced by the pounding of footsteps somewhere down the hall. Realising the sound is heading towards them, without saying a word, she grabs Clarke by the arm and wrenches the door open. The brunette breaks out in a sprint, dragging the blonde behind her as she races down the narrow, metallic halls. By now, the guards are aware of both, their arrival, and escape. It quickly becomes a game of cat and mouse, the guards hot on their heels. Octavia’s body suddenly leans back, her boot heels releasing a blood-curdling screech, as they fight against the metal flooring. Unaware of Octavia’s sudden stop, Clarke almost crashes into her friend’s backside, but catches herself inches before she can. She steadies herself just long enough to face the guard standing in their way, before Octavia’s grip tightens and their pace converts back into a sprint. They turn a corner, narrowly escaping the punches the guard tries to throw at them. The guards are still too close for comfort and the brunette turns several corners to try and lose them, with Clarke now matching her pace. The footsteps fade until the only sound left is the two women’s feet pummelling into the ground. Octavia’s right hand lands on a lever and she pulls it towards the earth, allowing them access into the room in which they came from. The women lean over in unison, their hands on their knees as they try to catch their breath, until a knock sounds on the door.   


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I thought, since I'd already written it, I would upload another chapter for you guys today. Since I'm taking a break from writing for a couple days, I won't be updating for a while. I hope to update sooner rather than later, as I now have my inspiration back, for both fics. If you haven't already checked out 'Asylum', I would sincerely appreciate it if you would, and leave me some feedback so I know where to go with it. Thank you again for all your patience and support.

“Shit,” Octavia mumbles, throwing herself into their escape vent. The sound of fumbling behind her confirms that Clarke is following, closely.

She manages to escape, half way through the tunnel, when she hears a heart-wrenching scream coming from the room behind her. Octavia wastes no time, instead, she uses the sides of the vent to propel her body forwards, skidding into the room they had escaped from. A flash of realisation hits her as she sees the walls of the tunnel blur around her, and the light pouring in from the entrance. In her panic, she had managed to overshoot her target, and it would be a painful landing. The light swallows her and she braces herself for the pain that, she is sure, is soon to come. With her eyelids clenched tight, she feels her feet hit a solid surface with a ‘thud’. She slowly opens her eyes, focusing first on her own stance. She is standing with her legs shoulder width apart, her feet firmly on the ground and her clenched fists raised. The brunette slowly lifts her head, and the sight before her causes her blood to boil and bile to rise in her throat. In the room, with her, stood Clarke and Raven, both being held roughly by the Chancellor. Octavia lets out a low growl at the sight of a large clump of blonde hair, tangled in Finn’s hand and Raven’s wide eyes.

 “Down, boy,” Finn mocks, a gun pointed towards the brunette, and a devilish grin on his face. “I’ll make you a deal, shall I?” He pauses, as though he were thinking about it. “The blonde,” he buries his nose in Clarke’s hair, inhaling deeply as tears begin to prick at her eyes. Octavia’s eyes scan from Clarke to Finn, and back again, pain visible in her pupils. “For the brunette.” He looks at Raven.

“Go float yourself.” Octavia snarls, her teeth barred.

Finn breathes out a sinister chuckle as he forces Raven into Octavia’s arms. Her lip curls up and she braces herself to lunge at the boy, until the barrel of the gun disappears into thick, blonde curls. Clarke feels the cool metal against the side of her head and thoughts of The Commander race through her mind; how she wishes she were with her now. Eyelids flutter slightly before closing, allowing them to protect the bright blue eyes underneath. Octavia’s breath catches in her throat, and she looks to the brunette in her arms, noticing the lack of awareness she shows. Her eyes travel back to the boy holding her blonde friend and she lets out a gentle nod of defeat before turning towards the vent with the mechanic. She gently coaxes her friend into the tunnel, following closely behind. Surprisingly, by the time they reach the light at the end of the tunnel, Octavia’s lungs are still full of oxygen and Raven had regained some of her consciousness.

With barely any strength, Raven lunges toward her saviour, her fists clenched inches in front of her face. The brunette is quick to react, and deciding she is in no mood for this, she lifts the mechanic into the air and over her shoulders. She ignores the pounding fists against her back and the cries of reluctance. She rolls her eyes and breaks out into a sprint, trying her hardest to ignore the pain in her chest. How would she explain this to The Commander? She lets out a low sigh and with Raven still adamant that she would not stop hitting her until she let go, she picks up her pace, sprinting through the thickness of the green grass. It is not long before she reaches the camp, and worse, an anxious Commander.

“Where is Clarke?” Lexa snaps, knowing that she could not trust the sky people with Clarke.

Octavia ignores The Commander, only aggravating her further, and turns to her lover instead, “Tie her up, tightly and do not let her go.” Now she turns her attention to The Commander with a sigh, “Finn has her.” Octavia had barely finished her sentence when Lexa began to sprint through the grass, towards the towering metal cage.

Lexa can feel her heart hammering in her chest as she wills her feet to move faster, pound harder against the soft dirt. The red sash that hangs from her pauldron is lifted into the air, flowing beautifully, elegantly in the wind with each step The Commander takes. She silently thanks the stars that she had witnessed Clarke and Octavia slip into the cage that had once again swallowed Clarke. As she draws closer to the home of the sky people, her heart pounded harder, something Lexa thought would be impossible. Apparently, nothing is impossible when it comes to Clarke. She hears loud sobs before she sees the passage into The Ark, and much like Octavia had, Lexa climbs in, legs first and uses her upper arm muscle to push her body through the metal tunnel. Her slender body slides against the smooth copper beneath her, with more control than Octavia’s had. The metal doesn’t blur but she still bursts through the small gap, landing on her feet. Lexa feels her heart break three-hundred times over, when she takes in the sight before her, anger finally washing over her usually stoic features. The sky boy, Finn, has Clarke pinned to the floor with one hand, holding her arms above her head, and the other fumbles with the zip on his jeans.   

“Lexa?” Clarke whimpers, her voice merely a whisper, as she turns her head to look lovingly at her saviour. The two women lock eyes momentarily until a scraping noise breaks them from their trance.

The Commander rips her eyes from the blonde, in time to see Finn reaching for his handgun, and she watches, her heart trying to rip through her chest, as he points it towards Clarke’s face. The blonde offers a gentle smile, as though she were saying goodbye to her ex-lover, and Lexa sees it. She sees the anger, the control in the boy’s eyes as his finger attempts to squeeze the trigger. With an ear-piercing war cry, The Commander charges at the Chancellor, allowing her feet to push her body into the air. Her legs are stretched out towards the boy, and with her body flying sideways through the air, she kicks the gun from his hand. She lands between the two, separating her love interest from her enemy, her feet either side of Clarke’s waist as she faces the sky boy. Her eyes scan him from top to bottom, noticing his right arm reach for the handgun once again. Growling, she forces her right hand down to his chest, and there she grips onto his shirt, before hauling him into the air. She allows him to gaze into her dark eyes momentarily, taking pride in seeing the fear in his, before she launches his body through the air and into the metal wall. Watching him slide down the wall, after leaving a slight dent in the copper, she turns around, to face Clarke.

Clarke barely manages to open her eyes before a scream tears at her throat, “Lexa!”

The Commander spins, forcing her hand to clasp the wrist that had come flying at her, and with his fists clenched, Finn raises his other hand. He points the metallic handgun between Lexa’s eyes, his forefinger on the trigger, but she quickly retaliates. The arm she isn’t using to clutch the boy’s wrist, warps through the air, snatching the gun from his fingertips. Lexa momentarily cringes at the feeling of the _skaikru_ weapon in her hand but she ignores it, bringing the butt of the gun down into the boy’s temple; hard. He staggers back and The Commander releases her grip on his wrist, only to lift her leg, kicking him flush in the chest. The boy’s body crumbles onto the floor and Lexa tosses the gun aside, turning her attention to Clarke once more. She lowers her hand, ready to pull the blonde to her feet, when a searing pain tears through her shoulder. She lets out a low cry before once again turning to the boy, fire in her eyes. His features drop, the smirk on his face melting away, when he realises that his shot had been lousy, and had only angered The Commander. He lowers his gun slightly, quickly raising it again when Lexa charges at him, her teeth barred as a blood-curdling war cry fills the room. Finn battles with the gun, aiming it straight at The Commander’s head. He takes a deep breath; and pulls the trigger.

Click.

Fear washes over the Chancellor’s features as Lexa’s enraged motions continue towards him, her arms are outstretched, her fists clenched. Her feet propel her body into the air, and a fist collides with Finn’s cheek, upon landing. The boy stumbles back, the gun falling from his hand, as he raises his own arms, in a futile attempt to defend himself. Lexa’s anger drives her and fist after fist collides with the Chancellor’s head. Blood leaks from the boy’s face, almost covering it completely, when Lexa decides she is finished with him. The punches stop, and she lowers her right foot to the ground, her heel touching the metal of the gun. With a soft kick, the gun skids along the floor, with a scraping sound, towards Clarke. The Commander looks at the boy for too long, and allows a tiny spark of anger to control her final movements against Finn. She grabs him by his collar for the second time when her leg is lifted into the air, her knee burying itself into his abdomen. Her leg retreats and with a flick of her arms, the boy is sent flying once again, his back colliding painfully with the wall. He dares to look into The Commander’s eyes, blood dripping into his open mouth, as he tries to catch his breath. He lowers his palm to the floor, ready to lift himself up, but a glare from Lexa holds him down and he finally slumps against the wall, fighting for oxygen.

With a triumphant huff, Lexa turns her back to the sky boy, but never averts her gaze as she slowly approaches Clarke, who still lay on the floor. The Commander lowers her hand to Clarke, offering a quick glance into her worried eyes and letting the shock in the blonde’s features sting her right in the chest. The sky girl had never seen Lexa fight before, and the brunette worries that it will scare her away, but Clarke’s fingers clench tightly around Lexa’s wrist, allowing her to pull the blonde up from the floor. Not once do Lexa’s eyes leave the boy crumpled against the wall until Clarke’s feet finally touch the floor, holding her trembling body up once again. Lexa gently coaxes the blonde towards the opening of the vent, despite the feeling of worried eyes on her bleeding shoulder. Her eyes flick from Clarke, as she climbs into the small opening of the tunnel, to the sky boy, who still makes no attempt to move from his position on the floor. Once Clarke is safely inside the vent, Lexa follows, using her uninjured arm to drag herself through the tunnel, all the while listening for any suspicious movement in the room behind her. She watches Clarke pull herself from the mouth of the vent and follows closely behind, stumbling out into the open, as the pain in her shoulder finally surpasses the pulses of adrenaline, circling through her body.

She feels her body falling until strong arms wrap around her midsection, holding her up. Lexa looks up into crystal blue eyes, the sight almost knocking the oxygen from her lungs. “Thank you,” Clarke whispers gently into her saviour’s ear, earning a small nod from the brunette. She takes a moment to look into emerald eyes, offering a small smile, before slipping Lexa’s arm around her shoulders and slowly beginning the short walk back to the place of their arrival.                      

 


	13. Chapter 13

The blonde fights to hold the weakening body up, in her arms, as their destination flashes before her eyes; only a few more steps. She pushes forward, almost dragging Lexa’s body with her, as the brunette tries her hardest to hold herself up, to push one foot in front of the other. They are merely centimetres from their destination when Clarke gently lowers the brunette onto the grass beneath them. Ignoring Lexa’s protests, the blonde tears a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt, wrapping it tightly around the brunette’s shoulder, under her armpit and down her biceps for extra support. She rips yet another strip of fabric from her shirt, and another, tying them together, making it longer, slightly more useful. While the blonde works on her bandage, Lexa’s attention is snatched away by Clarke’s exposed abdomen. The blonde is thin, her skin, pale, in comparison to the brunette’s. The skin is not loose, but doesn’t pull tight against muscle, it is formed with a strange consistency; toned. Lexa had never seen this type of stomach before, and it simply intrigues her. Every muscle in her body fights against the urge to reach out, and run her fingers against the inviting flesh, the silk that currently captures her attention, and holds it.

Lexa is pulled away from her thoughts, when she feels a gentle tug on her injured arm, and looking into sky blue orbs, she allows the blonde to take her arm into her own hands. Clarke bends Lexa’s arm, slipping it into the circular bandage she had created, before twisting it and slipping the other side over the girl’s head. The blonde gently smooths the fabric over, first around her arm, and then her neck, allowing the bandage more coverage, more stability. A small smile spreads across the blonde’s cheeks, offering it to the brunette before her, as she leans down to wrap her arms around Lexa’s waist. She gently pulls the girl to her feet, steadying her, before she assists the brunette in her arms, slowly walking her back to her most trusted warriors. Clarke lowers the injured girl down into a patch of moss, before Lincoln and Octavia, offering a delicate smile as she walks sluggishly over to the two warriors, her mind never leaving the brunette on the floor.

“How is she?” Clarke whispers, not really wanting to know the answer, but knowing all the same that she has to, in order to help, and save, her friend.

The two lovers exchange a look between them, before Octavia speaks for them, choking back her worry for the mechanic. “She’s not Raven.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Clarke breathes, her voice catching in her throat, “Where is she?”

Octavia nods in the direction of the horses, watching the blonde immediately shift her feet, uncomfortably. Clarke forces one foot in front of the other, shooting a gentle smile in Lexa’s direction, as she walks nervously towards the horses. With every step she takes, her legs feel heavier, and heavier but she pushes forward. Her knees buckle, but she steadies herself, as everything seems to move in slow motion. Her legs are heavier than before, and she is slowly losing the fight with them. The blonde looks down, watching her feet pound against the dirt, but feeling as though she isn’t moving at all. Her anxiety peaks as she turns the corner, to find one of her best friends from the Ark, propped up against a tree trunk, her eyes closed. The blonde sighs quietly, allowing herself to fall beside the mechanic, landing on her knees. She takes the mechanic’s hand in her own, cradling it between her fingers, as she hears the earth shift beside her. Still, she does not shift her eyes from the girl before her, taking in every detail that she had missed back at the Ark. Her dark brown, almost black hair, clinging to her face with sweat, and her eyes shut tightly.

“You should be resting,” Clarke whispers, choking back tears, as she stares longingly at the mechanic, laying before her on the ground.    

Expecting to hear the brunette’s voice, the blonde is shocked when it is, in fact, the voice of the mechanic that reaches her ears, “Well, well, well,” Raven’s head falls sloppily on her shoulder, as she turns to face the two women. “Commander, such a pleasure to see you again.” A glimmer of mischief flashes in her hazel orbs, as she spits her venom, “I see Clarke has forgiven you.” The mechanic pauses, as Lexa’s face drops into its usual, stoic expression. “You know, for leaving her to die at the Mountain.” The Commander’s jaw clenches, “And for forcing her to kill the man she loves, for your own, sick pleasure.” Lexa’s hand reaches for her dagger, but a soft, yet forceful hand grips her wrist, stopping her before she can draw the blade. “Oh, okay. I see what’s going on here. Not only has Clarke forgiven you, but she has developed feelings for you, no?” Lexa freezes, as the mechanic’s eyes flicker, back and forth, between the two women, not knowing what to believe. “Based on your reaction, I would say you have feelings for her too.” The warrior still does not move, her fingertips brushing against her dagger, Clarke’s fingers still wrapped around her wrist. “I get it, Lexa, I do. You ordered Wells’ death, because you had the hots for our little sky princess here.” A sickening grin spreads across the mechanic’s face, still not able to get a reading on Lexa. “Eliminate the competition, right?” She looks back to the blonde, “Because you know, that Clarke here, would have rather died, than slept with a filthy grounder.”

A growl tears at Lexa’s throat, but when she opens her mouth to speak, it is not her own voice, that she hears. “Shut up!” The blonde screams from beside her, and before the warrior can even begin to understand what is going on, a loud _smack_ sounds in the air. Looking over at the mechanic, she sees Clarke towering over her, going in for another hit, as Raven wears a smug mask, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. Still, Raven continues her attack on The Commander, capturing the brunette’s attention once again, “But what you failed to notice, Lexa,” blood spirts from her mouth as she drags out the brunette’s name, “Is that Clarke never loved Wells like that. The one you should have been worrying about, was Finn.”

Before Clarke can land another hit, she feels strong arms grip her under her armpits, and drag her away from the mechanic; who still grins up at her. Lexa looks back at the blonde, panic rising in her throat until she realises that it was Octavia who had dragged her away.

Lexa hadn’t noticed his presence before, but now that she has, she looks up at him, seeing his arm stretched out to her. “ _Heda_ ,” Lincoln almost whispers, from beside The Commander, as she slips her arm into his hand, allowing him to pull her up. Taking long, deep breaths to calm her panic, Lexa allows Lincoln to pull her away from the mechanic and over to the fire that he and Octavia had started upon the leader’s arrival; noticing that night was approaching. The strong warrior lowers his Commander down onto the grass, beside the fire, before nodding to her and disappearing into the trees, probably keeping watch for any suspicious movement. Lexa’s eyes flicker over to the blonde, several yards in front of her, watching as her chest rises and falls slowly, as she tries to catch her breath. Octavia places a hand on Clarke’s shoulder, desperately trying to ease her out of her minor anxiety attack, and a sharp pang surfaces in Lexa’s chest. The brunette struggles to find the source of the pain, but realises that it is made of more than one component. She continues to watch as Octavia’s eyes flicker from the blonde to the brunette, her lips moving, but no sound makes it to The Commander’s ears. The blonde moves slowly over to Lexa, lowering herself down into the space beside her and, for a moment, the two sit in a comfortable silence.

It is not long before Lexa’s worry for the blonde forces the words out of her mouth, “Are you okay, Clarke?” Her voice breaks out in a whisper, cracking slightly from the dryness of her throat.

“Yeah,” the blonde replies easily, although not completely convincing, as she stares into the distance, watching her friend pitch their tents as darkness falls. “Here,” she holds a canteen out for the warrior, waiting for her to take it before speaking again, noticing that her friend had finished pitching one of the tents, “You should rest.”

Lexa allows herself to nod slowly, her lips pulled down at the corners, a wave of sadness engulfing her features as her eyebrows, too, pull down. The motion of Clarke wrapping her arms around the brunette’s waist would usually comfort the warrior, but this time, something is different; Clarke is different and it only makes her worry more. Still, she lets the blonde pull her gently to her feet, not once looking away from her usually soft features and letting out an inaudible sigh at the hardening expression on her face. The corners of the blonde’s mouth are turned down, much like Lexa’s, but her eyebrows are furrowed, and her eyes hold a mixture of emotions. Pain, regret, anger. Yet, nothing the blonde could do, no matter the expression on her face, would make the brunette in her arms trust her any less, so Lexa leans into the blonde further, allowing her to guide the brunette into the tent. Clarke lowers the warrior onto the furs that line the cold floor of the tent, refusing to make any kind of eye contact, as she pulls the boots from Lexa’s feet. Satisfied that the brunette could take it from here, Clarke offers her a gentle nod before disappearing behind the tent flaps, unknowingly, to Lexa, hearing the small sigh that falls from the brunette’s lips.

The cold chill of the night air hits Clarke like a ton of bricks, and she pulls her leather jacket closer around her body, as she scans the area for her friend. The darkness makes a mediocre task almost impossible, but as the blonde squints her eyes, a silhouette flickers through the flames and she immediately moves towards it. When she reaches the fire, she realises that the silhouette is, in fact, the girl she had been seeking, and she slowly lowers herself down beside her. The two sky girls sit in an eerie silence, the unasked question lingering in the air. Neither girl is sure whether to ask or answer, Octavia, not wanting to invade the blonde’s privacy and Clarke, not necessarily wanting to speak about it. For many long minutes, the silence engulfs them, until Clarke cannot bear it anymore and finally breaks, pouring her emotions out, to her unsuspecting friend.

“She said that I’d forgiven Lexa for Mount Weather,” she pauses, the images of the massacre flashing through her mind, before they finally fade out, disappearing into the back of her memory, and she can continue, “She said that I’ve forgiven her for ordering Wells’ death.” Octavia has to force down the question that threatens to slip through the barrier of her quickly drying lips, and allows the blonde to explain what the mechanic had done to deserve a slap. “She said that Lexa killed him, because he was competition, and Lexa has feelings for me,” her voice is quiet, and before Octavia can interrupt her, she adds one final statement, “and I have feelings for her.”

Octavia takes a deep breath, trying desperately to filter the information that the blonde had provided her with and although she hadn’t asked the question, she wishes she hadn’t even thought about it. This is a mess and she doesn’t want to know, but she has to ask, “Is it true?”

Clarke hangs her head, trying to choke back tears, as the warrior’s eyes bore into the side of her face. “For the most part, yes.” Sensing that Octavia has more questions, she saves her from asking, and delves into a very long explanation. “I know that Lexa has feelings for me, back when we were preparing to attack Mount Weather, just before Finn proposed, she kissed me. I told her I wasn’t ready, because she didn’t know about Finn and at the time, I hadn’t forgiven her for what happened to Wells,” her voice cracked, a loud sob sneaking through her lips. “I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken about him in so long.” She quickly gathers herself and continues, “I haven’t exactly forgiven her for everything that has happened, but I’m trying.” She finally looks up at her friend, “I don’t know what it is about her, Octavia. I can’t tear myself away from her,” she sighs, “I can’t stay mad at her.”

Octavia takes a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to tell her unsuspecting, blonde friend, “I need to tell you something, Clarke,” she paused, gathering her thoughts for a moment, “Wells didn’t slaughter that village; it was Finn.” She waited for the blonde to look back up to her but before Clarke could ask her the question on the tip of her tongue, Octavia spared her the pain, continuing her excruciating confession, “He only left one witness alive, but he suffered extreme head trauma, he wouldn’t be able to tell a squirrel from a monkey.” She waited a moment for Clarke to process the information, “I don’t know how he did it, but Finn managed to convince the witness, and everyone else that Wells had been the one to take eighteen lives that day.”

Clarke almost couldn’t believe her ears, no one had spoken about Wells, since the day that the blonde, herself, had plunged the knife into his chest. Her heart almost broke just thinking about it, her and Wells had just begun rebuilding their friendship when she had seen him, gun in hand, standing in the middle of the village. She can still remember the look she gave him, a look of disgust, shock and sorrow. She remembers him running towards her, falling to his knees as the gun tumbles out of his hands and into the dirt, begging her to believe that this wasn’t him; that he couldn’t do something like this. Why hadn’t she believed him? Not that she could do anything about it, Lexa was adamant that the warrior’s words were his own. For what seems like hours, but in reality, is only a few seconds, of a constant ticking in her mind, thoughts bouncing around, it finally hits her. Lexa!

None of this was Lexa’s fault, she was doing what she thought was right for her people, and Clarke needs to tell her, she needs to ensure that Lexa knows, that Clarke forgives her; for everything. Without another word, the blonde leaps up from her seat next to Octavia, ignoring the younger girl’s protests, and moves towards the tent. She knows that Octavia has more questions, more that they need to discuss, but it can wait. All that Clarke can think of, is getting to Lexa, and telling her everything she knows and feels. With each step, her legs feel heavier and her heart pounds harder against her chest. Time moves slower and her thoughts swirl into a hurricane in her mind. She pushes herself forward, faster, her feet pounding harder against the dirt and she rips the tent flap open, not caring if she wakes the sleeping warrior.

Lexa wakes with a start, looking towards the entrance of her tent, but before she can question the blonde, Clarke forces her words out. She wants to tell Lexa everything she now knows but all that seems to escape are words she never thought she’d say, “I want him dead.”      

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so a couple of things I want to say:  
> One: I am a very impulsive writer, so an idea springs to mind and I have to use it, so if anything doesn't make sense and needs a longer explaination, let me know and I will make sure that it is explained in later chapters.   
> Two: I know it's taking me longer to upload but my partner and I are finally getting some time together, and I am trying to make up for the wait with slightly longer chapters, so I hope that does make up for it.  
> Three: Leave a comment and let me know what you think, I'm not giving up on either of my works, so thank you for your patience and support.


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